Thorns
by MountainGoats
Summary: A story that follows Kallian Tabris through the events of Origins. Blinded by her hatred of humans and haunted by the curse in her blood, she struggles to be the hero that the Wardens need her to be. Rated for violence and adult content. F!Tabris/Leliana *COMPLETE*
1. Make War

This is my first fanfic and I hope you will all enjoy.

My plan is to follow the story arc of the game pretty closely. I may have changed the dialogue and events a little but that is simply because I can't fathom playing this game for the fourth time in a row. Ideally, this fanfic will begin with the opening of the City Elf story and continue through the events of Origins.

Anyway, all characters and locations are the property of Bioware and its associated writers. I make no profit from the writing or distribution of this story.

Chapter 1: Make War

The Alienage

_Life is bristling with thorns, and I know of no other remedy than to cultivate one's garden._ - Voltaire

* * *

The woman might be beautiful.

It's a little difficult to be sure with her face shifting and blurring every time Kallian tries to look directly at her. She is smiling though, that much is for certain. Light streams from her, the sole illumination in a place that is otherwise dark. It is a glorious vision, but the woman seems so very far away.

Kallian steps forward to close the gab even as the figure raises her hand.

_No, not yet._

_..._

_..._

_...  
_

"Hey sleepyhead, time to get up. Today is the big day!"

Only one person in the world is capable of being that obnoxiously cheerful in the morning. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes with a groan, Kallian forced herself into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. There wasn't any point in trying to go back to sleep anyway, once Shianni set to a task, she locked on like a Mabari. When she spoke, Kallian made a special effort to voice her displeasure.

"I was having a very interesting dream"

Shianni raised a single eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "A dream, you are seriously concerned about a dream on today of all days?" She frowned slightly, "you do know what today is right?"

"It's the day I get married to a complete stranger without any say in the matter." Kallian pushed herself to her feet and engaged in a very satisfying stretch to shake off what remained of her grogginess. "Or is it laundry day? I do get the two mixed up every once in a while."

"Fine, be a smartass," Shianni smiled thoroughly unaffected. "There are plenty of girls in the Alienage that would love to be in your position. Not everyone gets to marry someone prettier than they are."

Flicking her cousin an amused glance, Kallian set about washing her face and arms in a basin by the window. For an Alienage residence, she supposed her house was actually pretty spacious. Unlike many others, her family had separate rooms for the kitchen and for sleeping. Some of the other girls, who worked as maids for rich humans, spoke of rooms dedicated solely to bathing. She didn't believe them of course, but the idea certainly was appealing.

"So this husband of mine is as handsome as they say?"

Shianni leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "Oh yes, from what I understand he is the Maker's gift to all woman. Soris is waiting outside to take you to meet him." She smiled and began to make her way towards the door. "I left your wedding dress on the table. Try to keep it nice for a few hours."

Kallian rolled her eyes as she heard the door open and then close. It wasn't like she was some sort of savage beast or something. She was just a little harder on clothes than most. Moving over towards the table, she quickly divested the dress from its brown paper wrapping. Flicking it to unfold the material, Kallian held her wedding gown up to the light.

It was one of the loveliest things she had ever seen.

The pale cream fabric was trimmed in dark brown, while small polished stones were embroidered around the hem and sleeves. It had to be handmade in the Alienage; there was no way Shianni could have possibly had the money to buy something like this. She felt an abrupt surge of affection for her cousin. This wedding may not be her choice, but she appreciated Shianni's attempts to make it special for her. Maker, but she was nervous.

"It will look marvelous on you."

Kallian jumped, and whirled around to see her father watching her with an odd look on her face. Cyrion was no longer young, but he still carried himself like a man half his age. The deep lines creasing his eyes and mouth spoke of a man who laughed often and well. Since her mother's death, he had raised her by himself to best of his ability. In her opinion, he had done a fine job all things considered.

"Yeah, Shianni outdid herself," she set the dress down gently. "It might be the only good thing about this day."

He sighed. "You are being unnecessarily dramatic. Our people have engaged in arranged marriage for centuries." He stepped towards her and raised his hands to clasp her shoulders. "It is part of our culture, and part of becoming the woman you promise to be."

She bit her lip. "Maybe, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Cyrion gave her a faint smile and then drew her close to embrace her. The familiar gesture made her feel even more anxious somehow.

"I know it seems overwhelming and frightening right now, but I'm certain that you will grow to love and trust this man in the same way that I loved your mother."He pulled back and smiled at her in his patented "good father" way. "Also, I cannot imagine the type of man who would not fall in love with a girl as beautiful and talented as you."

At that, Kallian realized that she would get married today if for no other reason than to avoid disappointing this man. She smiled weakly and tried to feel better about what was to come.

Smiling in response, her father turned and strode into the kitchen to begin tending to a pot over the fireplace. Resigning herself to her fate, Kallian quickly shed her sleeping clothes and stepped into the ornate wedding gown. It fit perfectly, and Kallian indulged herself in a few moments of grooming by pulling her mother's old comb through her hair. She had neither jewels nor makeup, but she briefly wished she had a mirror to make sure she was presentable.

Deciding on the next best thing, she walked in to the kitchen and stretched her arms out to her sides. "Well, how do I look?"

Her father turned his head to regard her. "You look ready…and so very much like your mother." Cyrion blinked his eyes a few times and turned back to his cooking. "She would be so proud of who you have become."

"Thanks Dad"

Kallian took a deep breath and opened the door to a refreshingly brisk autumn day. Before she could leave however, her father's voice floated from inside the house.

"No need to mention the knives and swordfight my dear," he paused. "At least not for a few months…give him time to get to know you first."

Kallian chuckled as she closed the door.

"No promises"

xxXxx

Outside, Kallian drew her arms close and shivered. Even two months from the solstice, Denerim was showing all the signs of a cold winter. Still, the sky was clear and the sun gleamed brightly despite the slight chill. Across the street, a thin red-haired elf pushed off the wall he was leaning against and hurried over.

She favored her other cousin with a grin, and started forward to meet him halfway into the street. His choice of formal wear was a rather atrocious combination of red and yellow that she was certain Shianni had no say over.

"Cousin," he gave a short, jerky nod to acknowledge her. "I don't suppose you are ready to meet our future spouses?

"Hmm…" she hooked her arm in his and began walking towards the center of the Alienage. "You don't sound very excited Soris. According to the Elder we are embarking on a glorious journey to bring others to our little community."

"Glorious huh? Easy for you to say I suppose." His face twisted. "From what I hear you fiancé is something of a dream. I on the other hand, am engaged to a woman who could easily be mistaken for a particularly homely mouse."

Kallian found herself laughing despite her nerves. Soris shared his sister's acerbic sense of humor even if he wasn't quite as pleasing to the eye. "Behave, that is the future mother of your children that you are talking about."

"That may be the most disturbing way you could have phrased that." Soris shuddered theatrically and steered her around the Vhenadahl tree. "Anyway, do you mean to tell me that you don't have any doubts about this?"

"Of course I have doubts," she glanced briefly at the ceremony stage where the wedding would be held. "But I'm also well aware that there is nothing I can do but go through with it. We don't have a choice, so we might as well go ahead and enjoy the celebration Shianni has planned for us"

Soris frowned. "Humph, maybe you haven't noticed, but Shianni has already started celebrating without us."

She sighed and gently pulled away from his hold. She had smelled the wine on Shianni's breath earlier. Soris always expressed displeasure about his sister's drinking, but Kallian knew that everyone had their own ways of coping with hardship. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't her place to judge another's vices.

She opened her mouth to change the subject, but aborted the attempt when she felt Soris go rigid beside her. The cause for his tension soon became evident, the Alienage had visitors.

Shianni and several other elvish women stood facing a group of human nobles, and their body language suggested that the conversation was anything but pleasant. Frowning, Kallian tugged Soris closer just in time to catch the words of the foremost human.

"…having a party and we're up for some company." His voice was an unpleasant drawl that crawled with a sense of entitlement. Kallian instantly disliked him.

"Leave us alone, we've done nothing and we are preparing for a wedding." Shianni glared up at the shem.

Soris urgently tugged on her sleeve. "Let's just go, there is nothing we can do."

As she watched, the shem grabbed Shianni by the arm and yanked her close. "Alright, grab a whore boys, plenty to go around!

"I will not allow this to happen." Before she could really think about what she was doing, she had shaken off Soris and loudly whistled. It seemed to get everyone's attention.

"Can't help but wonder why a couple of big and powerful shems end up looking for company in the Alienage." She walked closer. "One might think you were slumming."

If the human was at all frightened by her sudden appearance, he hid it well. He released Shianni and gave Kallian the sort of smile that should result in immediate imprisonment.

"Well well, another pretty one." He took a step towards her, and Kallian forced herself to stand her ground. "Maybe you are volunteering in the other slut's place?"

He began to reach for her, and Kallian shifted her weight in preparation for a fight. As it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

KRAAAACK!

The human's eyes rolled upwards just before he crumpled and slammed into the ground. Behind him, holding the jagged remains of a wine bottle stood Shianni.

For a long moment, there was silence.

"You stupid knife-eared bitch, do you have any idea who you just hit?" One of the other shems had come up stare at his fallen ringleader. He pointed towards Shianni and sneered. "This is Vaughan Urien, the son of the Arl of Denerim!"

Shianni's face drained of color and she staggered back with one hand over her mouth. "I d-didn't know…I swear I didn't know." She looked faint and Kallian decided that now was the time for damage control. She grabbed the sneering shem by his shoulder, and did her best to bring him down to eye level.

"Look, you don't mention this to the guards, and we don't go about telling stories about how the Arl's son got taken down by an elf girl." The man brushed her off as he and his friend picked up Vaughan motionless form and hurried off.

As she watched them leave, Kallian sensed that this wasn't last time she would be seeing Vaughan and his cronies.

_That will have to wait till tomorrow though _

She tried to smile encouragingly as she placed a comforting arm around Shianni's shoulders. Right now, all that mattered was to get through the rest of the day with as little drama as possible. After a few rushed condolences, she turned around to find Soris; only to see him talking to a pair of elves she had never seen before.

It wasn't difficult to make the connection, and Kallian inhaled sharply in recognition. Steeling herself, she moved towards them with a slightly sick feeling in her stomach. As she approached, the three stopped talking and turned towards her. Rather than meet their gazes, she chose to become intensely interested in the cobblestones.

After a few moments of truly memorable awkwardness, Soris cleared his throat and waved an arm to encompass the two elves. "Um, cousin I've told you of my lovely bride to be Valora; and of course this fine fellow is Nelaros." He then shoved her forward hard enough to cause her to stumble. "Valora, Nelaros, this is Kallian."

She righted herself quickly and flicked a quick glare back at Soris. Schooling her expression into something more pleasant, she turned back and offered a hand to shake. "A pleasure to meet you both"

"The pleasure is all mine," Nelaros smiled and leaned down to kiss her hand. Surprised by the gesture, Kallian felt heat rise in her cheeks. She couldn't really think of a good response, so she remained silent.

After a pause, Soris cleared his throat.

"Right, well I think Valora and I will leave the two of you to get to know each other." Soris tossed a wink at her and proffered an arm to lead his bride away.

This left her alone with the man she would shortly be marrying.

"I saw what you did back there; I was impressed that anyone would stand up to human nobles like that." He smiled shyly in a manner that she found endearing. "To be honest, I was a little surprised when Soris said that you were Kallian. From your father's letters I had assumed you would be more…delicate."

Choosing to take that in the best way possible, Kallian favored him with a crooked grin. Objectively speaking, she supposed she could understand why everyone sang his praises. With his blond hair and strong jaw, he might fit anyone's description of handsome. Personally, Kallian liked the fact that he had kind eyes. "Well, I suppose I could take up needle work if it would make you feel any better."

He laughed just like she hoped he would. After a moment, rocked back and forth on his heels and glanced at her. "Tell me, are you nervous about what is to come? I confess I had my doubts until I laid my eyes on you."

The compliment felt good and she relaxed a little. Shifting her feet, she tried to force some of the lingering tension from her shoulders.

"Maybe a little, but I'm sorry to say that you aren't nearly as frightening as a human noble." She gave a genuine smile. "I feel like I made this out to be a whole lot worse than it really is."

Nelaros took both her hands in his and gave her a look that bled sincerity. "I'll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy."

No one had ever said anything like that to Kallian and she was momentarily speechless.

She was saved from thinking of an appropriate remark by the timely arrival of Soris and Valora. Kallian returned Valora's smile and gently removed her hands from Nelaros's grip. "The two of you probably need time to prepare, Soris and I will be waiting for you down by the ceremony stage."

Nelaros inclined his head and excused himself politely. She watched him go feeling significantly lighter than she had before. At the very least, she knew that her future husband would be the kind of man she could be respect.

If she was lucky, affection might someday follow respect.

"Uh-oh, looks like we just can't catch a break today," Soris gripped her shoulder and pointed past her. "Another shem, and this one looks a lot more dangerous."

The human in question stood watching the final preparations for the wedding ceremony with a faint smile. His skin and hair had a dusky complexion that suggested at some Rivaini ancestry in his blood. However, Kallian was mostly interested in the swords and plate armor that he wore with the ease of someone long used to them.

If she were a smarter elf, Kallian might have decided to leave him be.

"Let's make sure that he moves along peacefully." She started towards the shem without bothering to check if her cousin was following. As she approached, the shem turned towards her and regarded her with an inscrutable expression.

When she reached him, Kallian inclined her head and spoke in measured tones.

"Hello friend, I don't know what you seek in the Alienage, but I know you that you will not find it here today. We are preparing for a ceremony, and you would be better off coming back another day."

The human quirked a brow, "I thank you for the advice, but I am afraid that I have no intention of leaving." His voice was warm and unruffled by her bluntness. "From what I understand, the two of you are to be married today. Allow me to congratulate you on your impending nuptials."

_How nice, maybe we should be discussing your impending beating…_

Taking a deep breath, Kallian forced herself to avoid picking a fight. She had no love for shems, and the day's drama was beginning to take its toll on her nerves. But fighting with humans was a lose-lose scenario thanks to the biased legal system. Besides, something told her that this shem would wipe with floor with her.

"Thank you," she said stiffly. "I appreciate it, but this really isn't the place for humans right now. Surely you have someplace better to be than an Alienage."

The man crossed his arms and regarded her with dancing eyes. Kallian felt her ears burn hotly as she realized that he was more amused than anything else.

"She maintains composure even while facing a superiorly armed adversary." His eyes were now focused on a point over her head. "Diplomacy isn't what I would have expected out of Adaia's child."

"Oh I assure you, she's been more than a handful for us over the years." Elder Valendrian's voice was light as he came up beside her. "She has plenty of her mother in her, for better or for worse."

The leader of the Alienage gave her a kindly look as he clapped a hand onto the human's shoulder. "Allow me to introduce Duncan, a Gray Warden and a very old friend of mine. I trust you weren't being too impolite my dear?"

"No no, the young miss was simply trying to prevent me from causing any trouble. If she knew just how difficult that is, I'm certain she wouldn't have even bothered." Duncan said mildly.

Kallian ducked her head slightly and murmured an apology. It really was her luck that she confronted a personal friend of the Elder. Still, something he had said something that begged a question…

"You knew my mother?"

For the first time, Duncan's composure slipped slightly. "Yes…once I considered her to be a close friend." He paused. "I offered her a position in the Wardens, but she had other considerations that superseded my wishes."

Valendrian stepped forward, "Duncan belongs to an old and very prestigious institution. The Grey Wardens have been heroes for Ferelden for many years. I briefly considered joining myself during a rebellious phase in my youth."

"How very interesting" Kallian nodded, already bored. "But if I may Duncan, I have some more questions about my mothe-"

"Not now I think" Valendrian interjected smoothly. "If I'm not mistaken, a very important ceremony is about to begin."

Soris, who had spent the entirety of the encounter nervously twitching in the background, cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah c'mon Kallian, we wouldn't want to be late for our own weddings right?"

Frowning, she allowed him to steer her away from the two older men. She couldn't help thinking that Valendrian had gone out of his way to keep her from speaking to Duncan.

Ah well, there would be all the time in the world for that after the wedding.

Thirty minutes later, atop of the stage in front of what seemed like the entire Alienage, Kallian felt like she was about to vomit. Whatever reassurance she had felt from meeting Nelaros had fled when faced with the implications of marriage. No matter what anyone said about growth or glorious journeys, she couldn't shake the feeling that the entire thing was wrong.

Gamely swallowing the urge to run screaming from the platform, Kallian fisted her hands at her sides and let out a shaky breath. Across from her, Soris had turned a delicate shade of green that made his outfit look all the more unappealing. As he met her eyes his expression contorted into a shape that desperately wanted to be a confident smile.

"…and so before the eyes of the Maker, these young people will be joined together through life and death."

She tried to listen to what the Chantry sister was saying. A nice woman, the sister was one of the few who were willing to make the trip into the Alienage to lead chants and perform important functions. Never having had much use for the Maker or his chant, Kallian struggled to recall her name.

"…will stand together through both feast and famine."

Kallian rubbed her forearm, unconsciously checking for the small blade she had slipped into a sheath earlier. She took a small measure of comfort just knowing it was there. It wasn't like she could stab her way out of commitment, but everyone had their own ways of coping with hardship.

"…and live every day only for each other."

_Shit…father was wrong, there is no way I'm ready_ _to be married._

…

…

_Maker, I wish someone would stop this._

As she had always suspected, the Maker was something of a bastard.

The crowd parted abruptly and the sister fell silent in the middle of her speech. Standing with a very unpleasant look on his face was Vaughan. This time, the Arl's son had brought half a dozen retainers.

And they carried swords at their hips.

Kallian clenched her teeth hard enough to make her jaw ache. She had known that Vaughan wouldn't let this rest; but she had hoped they would have time to prepare for his next visit.

Next to her, Shianni gave a moan of distress as the nobles began to climb the stairs leading to the stage. Surprisingly, the Chantry sister barred their path with arms outstretched. "Please my lord, we are celebrating a wedding."

Vaughan gave an ugly laugh. "You can play dress-up with your pets some other time Sister. Besides, I won't be here for long." With that, he forcibly shoved sister off the stage and into the mud.

The action surprised her more than it should have. No matter how bad a person might be, no one in Ferelden raised a hand to the Sisters of the Chantry. Vaughan wasn't playing by the rules.

_Foolish, _she thought bitterly. _What does the son of an Arl care about some social worker with a soft spot for knife-ears?_

"Now then, I'm having something of a party tonight." Vaughan was addressing the assembled elves like some sort of grotesque politician. "And it seems we are in need of some… _entertainment._"

Kallian saw several elves in the audience flinch at the innuendo. There weren't many who didn't know what that would entail. But it was Vaughan's next words that sent a chill down Kallian's spine.

"Right, where's the bitch who bottled me?"

"I got her right here sir!" The sneering shem from earlier had his arms wrapped around a struggling Shianni.

"Ah, wonderful," Vaughan was tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see, how about those two, the blond…and the plain one in the fancy dress."

Kallian tried to step forward only to be firmly stopped by Nelaros. "Wait, now is not the time. We will help them, just not here."

"Well well, look at the pretty bride." The slight motion had apparently drawn Vaughan's attention towards them. He strolled over with an air of exaggerated admiration. "All dressed up and looking nice for me." He gripped her chin between his finger and thumb to tilt her head back.

"Oh yes, you are definitely coming with me.

Kallian realized that she hated this man more powerfully than anything else in her life. Abruptly, all the anxiety and stress of the day coalesced in a tight ball that burned deep in her chest.

She hated him for the lust in his eyes, and the horrible power he held over the cowering elves.

She hated him for making her feel afraid and helpless.

But most of all, she hated him for being human. For proving every horrible thing she had ever thought about him and his kind.

In a crazy moment, she considered unsheathing the knife and opening his throat in front of everyone. He was too arrogant to think of her as a threat, and she knew she was faster than he could ever hope to be. With him gone, the other shems could be overtaken by sheer numbers and then…

…

…

…_Then the Alienage will burn, and everyone I know and love will die slow deaths at the hands of the torturers. Vaughan would die, but so would most of the elves in Denerim. It just isn't an option._

Speaking softly, Kallian resolutely held his gaze. "You are going pretty far just to soothe a bruised ego. Do you really think you can prove you're a bigger man by beating up on a few elves?" She narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Then she worked her jaw and spat directly into his face.

Vaughan released her and staggered back in surprise. A gasp of horror arose from the crowd, and one of Vaughan's retainers leapt forward to restrain her arms from behind. At that, Nelaros began to struggle with the two men closest to him. "Release her you villains!"

One of the men swung a heavy fist into his stomach, and he fell retching to the floorboards. Kallian turned her eyes away from the scene as Vaughan began to recover his composure. Wiping his face with one hand, the lordling regarded her with a very cold smile.

"Oh but I will enjoy breaking your spirit." He smiled wider, "and I assure you that you will be accompanying me to the party. All you need is a little convincing." He turned to a shem on his right and motioned towards her.

"Edmund, please convince her."

The other man started for her and cocked an arm back to throw a punch.

_Oh bugger_

* * *

Thank you all so much for reading.

I would greatly appreciate anyone who would care to review.

Constructive criticism is my favorite thing in the world...aside from music and the Chargers.


	2. Runaway

Chapter 2: Runaway

The Alienage-Ostagar

_"We live in a primitive time, don't we? Neither savage nor wise, half measures are the curse of it. A rational society would either kill me or put me to some use."-Dr. Hannibal Lecter_

_

* * *

_

In spite of the circumstances of the day, Duncan felt that he should be pleased with the overall result.

The trip to Denerim had been long and disappointing in terms of recruitment. After settling some business with the Orlesian consul, Duncan had hoped to find some promising individuals in the capital's dungeons. Several hours and many uninspiring interviews later, he had given up in frustration. Knowing the nobility had little interest in the Wardens during times of peace, he had prepared to return to Ostagar empty-handed. It had only been a last minute whim that had led him to visit Valendrian in the Alienage.

From there, Duncan was inclined to believe that it had been provenance.

Seeing Adaia's child had been something of a surprise. He had always known that she had started a family, but it had never struck home until the proof stood before him. After news of her death had reached him many years prior, he had done his best to forget the beautiful and violent elf that he had once called a friend.

So having the spitting image of Adaia glaring up at him stirred up far more memories than he was willing to admit.

Unlike many of the other elves, Kallian had come off as defiant and strong willed. Though he was certain that his presence discomforted her, she had maintained admirable composure. Despite her size, Duncan was confident the girl possessed a background in combat courtesy of her mother.

This alone made her seem like a very promising prospect.

However, the girl had a future in the Alienage. She would soon be married, and he had seen in her eyes that she was not ready to be a Warden.

No, those honey-colored eyes had still held innocence and hope. They had revealed an ignorance of the true ugliness of this world. The things he would require of her would tear her apart.

_A Grey Warden does not have a future. A Grey Warden has only a purpose. _

So he said nothing to her of either recruitment or duty. Their brief conversation had been interesting, but he had quietly decided to depart after her wedding.

Later, next to Valendrian at the back of the assembled wedding party, he had again marveled at the resemblance between mother and daughter. Alienage life had left Kallian slimmer and shorter than Adaia, but she showed the same chestnut skin and high cheekbones. The only major difference he could see is that Kallian wore her black hair short and shaggy.

He had smiled softly then, thinking of how bizarrely proud Adaia had been of her long, dark tresses.

Watching the wedding had been far more satisfying than Duncan would have initially thought. It was sometimes good to remind oneself that there was a reason to fight. Even if Kallian looked a little ill, he was glad that she would have a life of peace.

Thus, when Vaughan interrupted to fuel his perversions, Duncan had to force himself to remain still. However much he wanted to intervene, he knew the political ramifications would be terrible. Bound by his neutrality, he silently watched as Adaia's child was knocked unconscious and dragged off towards the Arl's estate.

_A Grey Warden does not interfere. A Grey Warden is an ally to all, and a judge of none. _

However, Duncan was incapable of doing nothing if for no other reason than he owed as much to Adaia. If he was unable to act, he must find those who were.

As it turned out, the only men willing to risk the Arl's wrath were Kallian's fiancé and the twitchy elf that had stood by while Kallian had confronted him. Lending them a sword and his hunting bow, Duncan wished them luck and prayed that surprise would give them an edge.

Having nothing else to do, Duncan chose to sit by Kallian's father as he waited for news.

Cyrion seemed to have aged fifty years from the last time Duncan had saw him. The man had never come across as particularly strong, and Duncan had often wondered what someone like Adaia had seen in him. The few times they had met, neither Duncan nor Cyrion had been overly friendly with one another.

Yet, seeing the lost expression on the elf's face had invoked a strong wave of pity in Duncan. There was little one could say to comfort a man who faced losing of his last remaining family.

So he had simply sat next to the man and patiently waited. He had been somewhat surprised that Cyrion had not asked him to leave.

Five hours later, Duncan was beginning to suspect the worst.

Thus when the gate creaked open, he half expected a contingent of guardsmen to come storming in. Instead, he was treated to the welcome sight of a bedraggled group of elves with Kallian leading at the front.

At the sight of her, Cyrion let out a moan that was far more distressed than relieved. Truthfully, Duncan couldn't blame him for the reaction.

The girl was wearing an overlong jacket over the remnants of her wedding gown. Both articles of clothing were so blood stained that it was difficult to discern their original colors. Held loosely in one hand was a short sword that was also liberally covered in viscera.

It took a moment for Duncan to realize that most of the blood wasn't hers. She now walked with a pronounced limp, but seemed to have avoided any serious injury.

It was her face however, that gave Duncan pause.

Completely expressionless, her face was caked in a layer of blood made her look like some sort of nightmarish mask. Through the gore, her eyes appeared oddly bright when she looked up and locked on to his gaze as if in challenge.

Whatever naivety he had seen before the wedding was gone. It had been replaced by a hallow look that dripped with terrifying malice. As he looked at her, Duncan had the inexplicable feeling he was looking at death.

Duncan actually shivered, _this_ was Adaia's child.

Her father rushed forward to clasp her in an embrace. She made no move to return the gesture.

In fact, as her father held her, her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. Concerned, Duncan began to move towards the pair while keeping a close eye on the girl's sword hand.

Unaware of her response, Cyrion was now inspecting her for injuries while producing a steady stream of concerned questions. She was answering slowly, as though she found him difficult to understand. Duncan stopped a short distance away and quietly observed. He had only seen one other person behave in a manner such as this

Adaia had looked similar when she was in one of her fits. They had been rare occurrences, but they were always memorable.

Drawing his thoughts back to the present, Duncan watched Valendrian urge the girl to flee before the guard arrived.

"No," her voice was completely emotionless. "I won't run"

She lapsed into silence for a moment before continuing. "If they do not have a clear culprit, the city guard will burn the Alienage to the ground." She said this flatly, as if it were undeniably fact. "If I take credit for the killings, they will have their whipping boy and leave the rest of you untouched."

"Isn't that right?" She was now facing him.

Truthfully, Duncan had no way of knowing if the guards wouldn't raze the Alienage out of spite. He nodded regardless.

_A Grey Warden cannot sacrifice. A Grey Warden has nothing to lose._

She held his gaze for a moment before her shoulders slumped.

"Then let them come."

As though someone had turned a valve inside her, the horrific coldness drained out of her eyes. She suddenly seemed very young and very tired. Regardless, she straightened her back when the sound of marching feet announced the arrival of the city guard.

At that moment, Duncan privately made his choice.

The captain of the guard stopped a few yards from the Elder, and his troops spread out to flank them. All the men were dressed in full plate and heavily armed. It seemed the guards were unwilling to underestimate the elves. Sucking a breath through his teeth, the man addressed Valendrian.

"The son of the Arl lies dead in his room; as do the majority of his guards and retainers. We know that elves were involved." He paused and cast a glance across the crowd. "If the culprits step forward, we can solve this without any more bloodshed."

Duncan watched as Kallian drew herself up and spoke loudly. "I killed Vaughan and his men. The rest are innocent of any wrongdoing."

Silence greeted this revelation.

Then the captain gave an incredulous laugh. "You really expect me to believe that a single elf girl killed close to twenty men?"

"We are not all as weak as we appear." Valendrian said softly.

Shaking his head slightly at that, the captain stared at Kallian for a long time.

"Right, well I respect you for what you are trying to do, but I hope you know what you are in for." He waved a hand at the men behind him. "Alright, arrest her so we can be on with it."

Sensing his moment had come, Duncan stepped forward. "A moment captain, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to take this woman."

He briefly enjoyed the surprised looks coming from every direction. No matter the situation, playing the wildcard was always enjoyable.

The captain frowned at him. "Is that so? Just who do you think you are?"

A more perfect opening had never been presented

"The Warden Commander of Ferelden," he stated flatly. "And as such I hereby invoke the Writ of Conscription. From this point forward, Kallian Tabris is under the direct authority of the Grey Wardens."

Those words had invoked a number of reactions throughout the years: hope, despair, surprise, even the occasion burst of joy. But this was the first time he had seen open-mouthed horror.

Duncan felt the girl's eyes on him, but he kept his own gaze fixed on the captain. At the present time, said captain was doing a remarkable impression of a fish.

"Y-you what?" The captain shook his head emphatically. "No, you must know the trouble this will cause…what this will mean for Denerim!"

"I do," Duncan stated mildly. "But the Writ is very specific; I have this right and am choosing to enforce it."

The captain looked back and forth between Kallian and Duncan. Eventually, he threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Fine, Maker curse you, but she's your problem now!" The captain turned on his heel and motioned towards his men. "Just do me a favor and ensure she is out of the city by nightfall."

Watching him go, Duncan briefly wondered if he was making the right choice. Denying the guard their scapegoat would surely bring trouble down on the Alienage. Yet, Adaia's child now had another chance, and he had a very promising recruit.

Speaking of which…

"Pack your things and make your goodbyes." He glanced sideways at the elf girl. "We leave within the hour."

She gazed at him blankly for a moment before nodding. He expected that she was still dazed from her sudden change of fortune.

Leaving her to her preparations, Duncan sought out the young red-head to whom he had lent the weapons. He found the elf sitting with an arm around a young woman at the base of the Vhenadahl. As Duncan approached, he rose to his feet and looked down at his companion. "Sorry Valora, I have to speak with the Warden. It shouldn't take long."

The woman nodded and glanced timidly at Duncan before excusing herself. Smiling weakly, the elf held out a hand to shake. "Never got around to introducing myself I suppose. My name is Soris."

"You may call me Duncan." He took the elf's hand in a firm grasp. "I'm afraid I never got the name of the other man who went with you."

Soris flinched. "Ah, you mean Nelaros. He was killed by a guard shortly after we rescued the girls."

"I'm sorry to hear, it was very brave what the two of you did."

The boy looked down at his feet and said nothing.

Clearing his throat, Duncan indicated the bow still strapped to Soris's back. "I should probably be taking that back now, it will be very dangerous for an elf to have a weapon in the coming days."

"You got that right." Soris shifted the weapon off his back and passed it over quickly. "I forgot to pick up the sword after Nelaros dropped it. Sorry, but I think it is still in the Arl's estate."

Duncan dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. "No matter, it was a spare. It's a small price to pay for the safe return of the young women."

Soris bit his lip and nodded quickly. He was shifting on his feet and seemed to be dealing with some internal issue. After a moment, he seemed to make up his mind.

"Ser, there is something you have to know about Kallian…about what happened in the Arl's estate."

Duncan had rather expected this, and nodded for the boy to continue.

"Well, you see after Nelaros and I got into the palace, it took a while to actually find the girls. When we got to them, everyone was being held in a single room except for Kallian and Shianni." Soris frowned. "From what Valora said, Vaughan separated the two of them from the rest as soon as they reached the estate."

"Anyway, we found Shianni with a bunch of guards in one of the halls. That's where Nelaros was killed." He paused and let out a shaky breath. "She was in a bad way, but she told me that Vaughan and three other men had taken Kallian to his chambers. I told the others to go for the door and went after her alone." He gave Duncan a hopeless look.

"When I found her…she uh…she wasn't Kallian."

Duncan blinked, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well…I mean she _was _Kallian, but she wasn't at the same time. I mean, you saw her earlier; the way that she was looking at everything." He shivered, "It was like she was trying to decide which of us to kill first."

Crossing his arms thoughtfully, Duncan pondered this for a moment. Apparently he hadn't been the only one who noticed.

"I see, and this was after she killed Vaughan?"

Soris nodded. "Yeah, it looked like she damn near tore his head off. The other three looked even worse." The elf shrugged. "The rest is pretty straightforward. We left and she didn't say a word until we got back."

He glanced at Duncan as if to gauge his reaction. "Look, she scared me so bad I didn't want to touch her. I just thought you should know since you are taking her along with you."

"Thank you Soris, I will consider what you have said." Duncan gave him a nod and left the elf staring despondently after him. He knew that the boy wanted him to explain what had happened to his cousin.

If Duncan fully understood, he might have told him.

As he suspected, the girl had inherited more than just looks from her mother. Duncan sighed as he made his way back to the gates of the Alienage. He was already beginning to question the wisdom of his decision.

Thankfully, the girl seemed to have realized that time was of the essence. She had gathered her things, and was in process of saying goodbye to her father and Valendrian. After a few moments of hurried conversation, she hugged her father and turned to face Duncan.

"I need to get one more thing."

He nodded and watched as she strode off towards the Alienage's apothecary. He was pleased that she wasn't falling to pieces over losing the only place she could call home.

_A Grey Warden has no attachments. A Grey Warden is bound only to duty._

"You will keep her safe won't you?" Cyrion's voice came from over his shoulder. "If not for my sake…then for Adaia's"

Duncan turned, uncomfortably noting that the man's eyes were full of tears. Still, he nodded and tried to smile.

"I will do whatever I can to ensure her safety."

The other man ducked his head and moved away. Duncan turned his attention back to Kallian, who now approached with a small bag in one hand.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes"

"Good, come then."

He began walking, trusting her to collect her bag and follow.

It was a several moments before he heard light footsteps padding behind him.

Pleased, Duncan quickened his pace and made for the gates of Denerim.

…

Nearly four hours later, he came to halt.

He had set a punishing pace in order to push the girl to her limits. It was one of his standard methods of gaining the measure of an individual. Based on her injuries and exhaustion, Duncan had thought she would ask to slow down soon after leaving Denerim's limits.

Surprisingly, the elf had stubbornly matched his pace even as her breaths grew labored. Her limp had become steadily more pronounced, and the girl sporadically let out a pained breath. Regardless, every time he glanced back to check on her, he had been met with a stony glare that dared him to say something.

So Duncan had said nothing.

Now though, the girl's legs were trembling and her face was flushed and sweaty. Regardless of the strong front she presented, Duncan could see that Kallian was ready to collapse.

"We will rest over there for the night." He pointed to a clearing just off the road.

Wordlessly, the elf girl shifted her pack and began moving in the direction he indicated. As Kallian drew water from a nearby stream, Duncan kindled a fire and laid out their bedrolls.

When she returned, Kallian set the pot of water over the fire and began to rummage in her pack. She came up with a bar of soap and turned to face him.

"I'm going to bath, don't follow me."

He raised an eyebrow as she stalked off. Duncan was used to his recruits being withdrawn for the first few days after he conscripted him. However, the flat out aggression she was displaying was beginning to trouble him.

If she was to be a Warden, she would have to learn to work with others and be diplomatic. He hoped that her attitude was merely lingering anger from her abduction and exile. Shaking his head, Duncan bent over the pot to begin working.

It was some time before she returned with hair still dripping. With the night's chill, Duncan was hardly surprised when she made directly for the fire and sat down shivering. Her eyes widened when Duncan passed her a plate of stew and a hunk of bread. She looked at him suspiciously before standing up and taking her plate further away.

_For pity's sake, it's like traveling with a stray dog._

Duncan carefully avoided reacting to her behavior. Instead, he watched in slight amazement as she all but inhaled what was on her plate. As soon as she finished, the girl glanced sidelong at what remained inside the cooking pot.

He gestured towards the food. "By all means, help yourself."

Her eyes gleamed, and she actually smiled as she reached for the cooking spoon. Duncan had forgotten that Alienage life was a great deal harder than his own in many respects. Well, at least he now knew that food was one way to get a reaction out of her.

After the meal, he had her clean the pots while he wrote in his codex. He had encountered an unusual type of herb several days prior, and was just now getting around to documenting it. Duncan knew that many Wardens disliked having to own and maintain a codex. He personally enjoyed the task, and felt it valuable.

It didn't take long for her to finish the chore he had given her. Duncan noted that the pots had been cleaned in a thorough manner. He nodded in approval; Alistair still had yet to master that particular skill.

Later, he was dimly aware of the girl bustling around in front of the fire. When she moved back, he saw that she had hung a small kettle on to boil. Drawing out the bag she had received from the apothecary, Kallian dropped a few pinches of something into the bottom of a mug.

Duncan watched her over the top of his book. He had not expected her to have a passion for tea of all things. As she poured water over the leaves, he privately hoped she would offer him a cup…he rather liked tea.

She did not.

Over the next week and a half, the two of them continued in a similar fashion. Duncan had slowed his pace after the first day, but they still made far better time than most travelers. At first, it had seemed like Kallian's mood would not fade easily. Despite several attempts at conversation on his part on the second day, she had remained silent and sullen behind him.

His first breakthrough had occurred two days later when he tossed her a small clay jar that he had dug out of his bag. It contained a salve that was useful for treating blisters. However tough a person may be, no one's feet went unpunished on their first ever trek.

The girl had caught the pot with a slight frown. After a moment, she had taken off her boots and begun applying the foul-smelling concoction. It must have worked because she offered muttered thanks as she handed it back.

From there, things had slowly improved.

For instance, she now responded to his comments with words instead of icy glares. She also seemed to be making a special effort to carry her own weight along the trail. Still, his companion was a far cry from the girl he had met before her botched wedding.

Instead of compassion and bravery, he was now faced with wariness and mistrust. The girl still acted oddly around food; and the last time he had made a sudden movement, she had just about bolted from her skin. It made life around her a little tense, but Duncan reminded himself that many soldiers acted strangely after a fight. Perhaps this was just her response to a high stress situation.

Amusingly enough, she leapt at the chance to bath anytime they settled near a water source. Though she hadn't expressively told him not to follow her after the first night, he supposed the look she always shot him meant as much.

It was a touch unusual, but Duncan dismissed it as a harmless eccentricity. If more of the Wardens bathed as often as she did, he would count it as a blessing. She probably enjoyed the chance to be clean after spending so long in the admittedly filthy conditions of Denerim.

After a time, she began to open up and speak with him. Hardly surprising, no one really wanted to be alone forever.

The conversations mostly consisted of her asking questions about their journey, or the Grey Wardens in general. He smiled to remember her skeptical look when he told her about Darkspawn. It had taken considerable time for him to convince her that he wasn't trying to fool her.

Duncan was careful to avoid asking her any personal questions, and he always waited for her to approach him. It was the same way he would coax a particularly ornery cat.

Slowly but surely, the girl was beginning to relax around him.

Less than a day's walk from Ostagar, Duncan found himself feeling oddly pleased about the way things had turned out. They had stopped for the day, and had crossed the distance from the capital in less than three weeks. Rather than push through the night, he had called a stop by a nice grove of trees.

The girl was a handful, no doubt about that, but she had a number of qualities that he found lamentably absent in most recruits. He just hoped she was able to survive the joining.

As he lifted his quill to make another annotation to the codex, she spoke.

"You knew my mother before she met my father right?"

This was a conversation he had hoped to avoid. Their past talks had been mercifully free of the one topic he knew would eventually come up. "Yes…many years ago I traveled with her for a time. We worked together along with a minor noble to suppress a group of raiders that plagued some small towns."

Kallian was perched on a log across the fire from him. She sat hunched forward with her elbows resting on her knees, and her arms dangling loosely before her. Despite her apparent nonchalance, her too bright eyes were fixed intently on Duncan.

"Hmmm…she never mentioned you." Kallian looked thoughtful for a moment. "In fact, she never said much of anything about her life before the Alienage."

Hearing this hurt more than it should have. Adaia probably wanted to keep her two lives separate. Still, he would have liked to have known that she still thought of him. Pushing the feeling aside, he noticed Kallian looking at him expectantly as she prepared the last of her nightly tea.

Sighing, Duncan closed his book and leaned forward. "Your mother was a remarkable woman. In the time we traveled together, she saved my life more often than I care to admit. She was unceasing loyal to her comrades, and a terror to behold in combat. I tried to convince her to join the Grey Wardens on several occasions. For a time, she even seemed like she would."

"Then one day she agreed to marry a man from Denerim's Alienage and started a family. I saw her a few times, but we fell out of contact after that."

He smiled softly at the girl across from him.

"It surprised me to see you when you walked up to me that day. It was like seeing Adaia again after so many years." His voice caught on that last part.

Kallian shifted uncomfortably. "Do you know how she died?"

He shook his head. The letter from Cyrion had been frustratingly brief.

"I got pinched by the guard for pick pocketing when I was thirteen." Kallian bit her lip. "They started to break my fingers as a lesson, and Mom stepped in. She dropped two of them, but the rest piled on and started beating her."

Duncan closed his eyes.

"Anyway, she screamed at me to run and I did." Kallian was now staring at the ground. "By the time they let up, she was dead."

A silence settled between the two, and neither seemed to know how to break it. Finally, Kallian nervously wrung her hands and looked back at him.

"Were the two of you…close?" Her voice held another, unspoken question.

"Yes"

He left the word hanging between them as he reopened his book. Kallian was still watching him, but Duncan was determined to end the conversation. After a time, Kallian poured her tea and then stood and walked off in the direction of the spring.

When she was gone, Duncan lowered the codex and exhaled softly. It had been harder than he imagined to speak of Adaia again. Glancing about, his gaze finally settled on the unattended mug of tea. The elf had never been courteous enough to offer him a cup, so Duncan felt a childish surge of glee as he reached for the drink. Drawing it close, he inhaled deeply to savor the aroma…

…and then froze in place.

Gently, he set the mug down where he had found it. A profound feeling of sadness washed over him and he silently gazed in the direction where Kallian had disappeared.

There weren't many reasons to drink Moon's Tea…it explained a great deal.

Shaken, he leaned back and mindlessly held the codex open in front of him. When she returned, Kallian flashed him a faint smile as she took her mug and walked over to her bedroll. Duncan wanted to say something, but found himself making no move to do so.

Even Warden Commanders have their moments of cowardice.

It was difficult for him to find sleep later that night. As was the case every night, Kallian had immediately fallen into a deep slumber as soon as she lay down. He had always envied people who were able to do that.

Instead, he found himself replaying distant, half-forgotten memories of his time with Adaia. They may have been pleasant, but the act of recalling them was not. Eventually, Duncan rolled over and forcibly cast them from his mind.

_A Grey Warden has no past. A Grey Warden only looks forward. _

Tomorrow, they would reach Ostagar and he would need his sleep.

* * *

Thanks so much for reading, any reviews you are willing to give are appreciated!


	3. This Hard Land

Gah, this chapter kinda poured out. I originally planned to continue all the way into the Wilds but way too much stuff happens at Ostagar. I tried to combine some events in the interest of time. I'd appreciate it if anyone could let me know if it all came off as too cluttered. Thanks!

Chapter 3 - This Hard Land

Ostagar

_In time we hate that which we often fear.-William Shakespeare_

_

* * *

_

Ostagar was like no place she had ever seen.

As they passed the crumbling ruins of the derelict outpost, Kallian was struck dumb by the sheer oppressive age of the place. All around her, ancient stone jutted impossibly high to loom overhead like the ribs of some massive beast come to rest in the bed of the mountainside.

Years of inattention had let the wilderness consume the still impressive architecture. Moss gripped every wall while small plants shot up in the cracks between the cobblestone path.

Ahead of them, the smoke from innumerable camp fires twined upwards in small eddies that obscured the rising sun. Duncan had said that the armies of Ferelden were assembling, but she hadn't had any concept of what that would entail. Her crowded upbringing in Denerim seemed suddenly insignificant when faced by the enormity of the King's army.

Indeed, Kallian was beginning to feel insignificant in more ways than one as they approached a great stone bridge. What possible difference could a single elf girl make in the midst of an entire army? What could any Grey Warden do that made them worth the effort?

She cast a lingering glance over the wide plain that stretched beyond the walls of Ostagar. The big fear was that a hoard of Darkspawn would soon be spilling out from the Wilds to slaughter every living thing they encountered. Duncan had been expressing concern over the possibility of desertion upon facing the monsters.

Kallian mentally shrugged. So long as Duncan kept feeding her like a queen, she'd stick around and risk it.

Ahead of her, Duncan slowed and came to a halt. Looking up the trail, Kallian noted that a troop of armored soldiers had begun to draw near. Leading the group was a man clad in brilliant golden armor who called out a loud greeting when he saw Duncan.

In response, Duncan stepped forward to meet him.

Edging backwards, Kallian watched as the two men embraced in the peculiar, backslapping fashion that males preferred. The other human was taller and broader in the shoulders than Duncan. His handsome features were framed by a glorious wave of golden hair that fell past his shoulders. The cumulative effect was so strong that Kallian thought he looked regal enough to be the King of Ferelden.

Duncan motioned her forward. "Kallian, this is Cailan Theirin, the King of Ferelden."

_Ah…_

Mouth suddenly dry, she made a stiff approximation of a bow and then tried to look as uninteresting as possible. Apparently, she failed.

Eyes widening, she stepped even further back as the man moved swiftly in her direction and threw his arms out in an explosive gesture.

"Ah yes wonderful! The new Gray Warden recruit you spoke of in your letter!" He seized her hand in a crushing grip and pumped her arm twice. "A true pleasure to make your acquaintance, we need every Warden we can get after all!"

This was accompanied by a laugh so loud it made her wince. Utterly shell-shocked, she elected to gape stupidly at the King as he smiled radiantly down at her.

This was several thousand feet outside of her comfort zone.

_Also, when the hell did Duncan send a letter?_

That particular puzzle would have to wait, as the king had now moved closer to encompass her vision in a sea of gold and enthusiasm.

"I can see by your ears that you are one of my elven subjects! Tell me, how is life inside of an Alienage?" He paused and adopted a thoughtful look. "For some reason, my advisors refuse to allow me to visit one."

At that, Duncan suddenly seemed to be possessed by a terrible coughing fit. His apparent method of coping was to make repeated chopping motions across his throat when she looked over.

_Message received boss: don't tell the truth_

"Erm…they are probably much like you would expect." She gave the King a shaky smile. "It isn't always easy in the Alienage, but I suspect that everyone's life is difficult sometimes."

There, nice and diplomatic. She hadn't really needed Duncan's cue to know that the particulars of her recruitment were better left unsaid. The last thing she wanted to do was anger a king that had a full complement of bodyguards watching her warily.

"Ha! Very well said my lady!" The King's smiled had impossibly grown wider. "After this little engagement is over, you must take me to see the one from which you hail. Advisors be damned!"

He then clapped a gauntleted hand on her shoulder with enough force to make her knees buckle. Turning his head back to Duncan, the King made a grand, encompassing gesture. "I rather think this one will make a spectacular Warden."

To her intense relief, the King released her and backed far enough away that she had room to breathe comfortably.

"You know, I can hardly fathom the force that could stand against my armies with the Grey Wardens beside me." His eyes were alight with excitement.

"This will be just like the stories told of my father and his exploits with the Order!"

Duncan was nodding in a manner that seemed more polite than sincere. "Yes, I suspect that Ostagar will become a place worthy of mention very soon."

King Calian gave another booming laugh. "You wouldn't think it to hear Loghain speak. Listening to him, you might think all of Thedas approached bearing arms."

He walked back to his retinue and the guards moved to encircle him. "Speaking of which, the man has called a meeting to discuss strategy two hours after sunset. The two of you simply must attend. I can hardly wait to have the chance to fight alongside the legendary Duncan in battle."

Duncan smiled slightly, "I thank you Majesty. However, I am not certain that it will be as easy as we might hope."

The King dismissed this with a wave. "Nonsense, we will crush this petty band of monsters and return to Denerim as heroes."

He gaze lingered a moment on Kallian.

"Perhaps you should come to my tent later; I would love to have the opportunity to converse further about Ferelden's elves."

Surprised, Kallian gave a nodded out of reflex more than anything else. With a final beatific smile, the King and his entourage made off in the direction of camp.

Following their progress feeling faintly confused, Kallian was aware of Duncan coming to stand beside her. He shook his head.

"Cailan is a good man who genuinely wants to help his people. He has passion and a great deal of promise, but he is also young and woefully inexperienced."

"So you think that he is wrong about the Darkspawn." She looked over at him.

"Not necessarily, but I do believe that we should respond to the threat as though it were the worst imaginable case. I see little harm in treating this as a full blown Blight."

_Makes sense I suppose…_

Duncan drew a small pouch out of his belt and passed it over to her. When she took it, the unmistakable sound of money clinking made her smile.

No music ever sounded sweeter.

"Take this into the camp and find the blacksmith. Tell him I sent you and he may not even try to cheat you. Buy whatever equipment you deem necessary for both travel and combat. Afterwards, find a Grey Warden by the name of Alistair. He will be overseeing your evaluation and initiation into the Order."

He gave her a hard look. "Stay out of trouble while in the King's camp. Valendrian informed me of your previous occupation."

Choosing not to respond to that, Kallian bounced the money pouch in her hand and looked at him. "Do I have time to grab a hot meal first?"

He gave a soft laugh. "Of course, I won't need you and the other recruits until half past noon. Do as you wish so long as you have everything done by then."

Duncan then paused a moment and gave her an odd look. "It might be best if you forget about meeting Cailan later. I don't fancy he had conversation on his mind when he invited you."

Flushing, Kallian nodded and strode away swiftly before he could change his mind about the purse. A brief glance had revealed that he had given her several gold sovereigns. Maker, but she couldn't even remember the last time she had seen a sovereign much less owned one.

A guard standing by the entrance gave her a bored look as she entered the camp. Though she imagined that he could care less, Kallian did her best to look entitled and purposeful as she strode past him.

Once inside, Kallian immediately wished she had Duncan beside her. Aside from being large and difficult to navigate, the entire area was absolutely packed with humans. Electing to avoid the hectic press of bodies, she skirted around the eastern boundary and fervently wished she still had a knife.

Ahead was a clearing where a few people were standing about waving their arms above their heads. Intrigued, she walked closer until her progress was halted by a pair of humans wearing imposing plate armor.

"Please don't come any closer elf; the mages must not be disturbed." One mountain of metal held out a hand to halt her.

So these were mages? She craned her head to look past the two sentries. As far as she could see, the notorious spell casters were doing little beyond inventing a particularly ugly form of dance.

When she had been younger, her and her friends had taken turns pretending to cast magic spells at one another. At least they had until someone's mother had tanned their hides for "dabbling in the black arts".

She nodded to what she assumed was a Chantry Templar. "I won't disturb them from their…uh…what exactly are they doing?"

The templar stilled and turned his helm towards his partner. Both men shared a moment before looking over their shoulders at the dancing mages. The one on the right shrugged at the other before turning to her.

"Er…magic stuff"

_Right, well magic seems real interesting._

Leaving without comment, Kallian briefly wondered why anyone bothered trying to lock up mages.

After several more minutes of wandering about aimlessly, Kallian decided that in the interest of time, she would probably have to ask someone for directions.

Stopping near an older woman who was rummaging through some sacks, Kallian wondered how she would find this Alistair person when she couldn't even find a bloody blacksmith.

_Wait…is that an anvil over there?_

Smirking, Kallian locked on her to target and was only dimly aware that the human woman was speaking to her.

"Ahem, excuse me but my name is Wynne and I was wondering if you could help me wit-"

"Not now shem, I'm busy."

The woman's gasp of outrage fell on deaf ears as Kallian swiftly strode over to the smithy. She felt her spirits rise as she navigated the crowded path to reach the other side. It was nice to have a stroke of good fortune for a change.

Her good mood died as swiftly as it had appeared when a portly man came charging forth, already yelling.

"You thar', elf, where's my armor? And why are ya' dressed so preposterously?" He glared at her as though she had personally spit in his morning porridge.

She gave him a cool look. It wasn't worth getting upset over a single human's prejudices. After a time, one just sort of expected this kind of thing.

Besides, she was going to have to do business with this man. She exhaled sharply and drew herself up to face him.

"You have me mistaken for someone else; I am here with the Grey Wardens."

The effect was as immediate as it was unexpected. His faced drained of color, and he began to nervously tug at his absurd mustache.

"Oh…um…my mistake ma'am, I-I'm a simple man and I dinnit mean ya' no offense."

Kallian concealed her surprise. Apparently the name of the Grey Wardens carried a certain amount of weight. Good to know.

"No matter," she kept her voice free of emotion. "I have need of some armor; preferably something strong that won't weigh me down."

The man nodded eagerly. "No problems there ma'am, If I was ya', I'd be lookin' for leather armor meself." He pulled out a length of fabric with marking along the side. "Just need to get yer measurements and I'll have a set made up right quick."

Kallian stood stock still as the man circled about her with the measuring tape. Jaw clenched tightly, she weathered his touch as he carefully noted the particulars of her size. If he took any liberties with her form, she silently promised he wouldn't live to regret it.

A few tense moments later, the man stood and nodded in professional consideration. "Give me a few hours and I'll be havin' a nice kit all set for ya'." He beamed at her. "Anythin' else strike yer fancy?"

"Yes, I'll be needing weapons as well."

The blacksmith gave her a knowing look. "Weapons eh? Well that won't be a problem. What's yer fancy? I got swords, bows, axes, even a spear if that's yer kind o' thing."

"I'm thinking something smaller, how about your knives?" She gave him a pointed look. "I'd be inclined to pay handsomely for something out of the ordinary."

The blacksmith grinned and gave a conspiring whisper. "I think I got just the thing for ya'. Wait jus' a moment while I collect me special stock."

With that, the man trundled off towards the tent at the back of the forge. While she waited, she began to inspect some of the plate armor on display without any real interest. It baffled her that anyone would willing wear this much metal while fighting.

A cultured voice sounded over her shoulder.

"Excuse me, but I could not help but overhear you speaking to the smith about the Grey Wardens."

Turning, she found herself looking up at a tall human in dark brown armor. His square, blocky features were offset by intelligent eyes that regarded her with polite interest. Something about him reminded her of the guards back in Denerim. It didn't foster a great first impression.

"Yes, I'm a new recruit, what of it?"

The man held up his hands and gave her a surprised look. "Please, I meant no offense. My name is Ser Jory, and I am also to be recruited to the Wardens."

He held out a hand that she pointedly ignored. After a moment, he slowly lowered it to his side.

"Ahem…yes, well I must say I am somewhat surprised by your appearance. I had not imagined that Duncan's last recruit would be an elf girl. To be quite honest, I cannot see you as the type of warrior who ends up in the Wardens."

She felt her eyebrows rise as a powerful wave of dislike rose up inside her. Apparently, sexism was alive and well in the hearts of men.

She spoke in her flattest voice. "Yes, this must be terribly disappointing for you. However will I fight the Darkspawn while dealing with my womanish emotions at the same time?"

Frowning, the knight shook his head. "I did not mean it in that fashion. Obviously, we are chosen for our merit rather than our social standing. If you insist on taking offense, I will leave you to your business." He gave her a short bow and turned on his heel.

Irritated, Kallian watched as he strode away. The arrogant bastard's condescension rankled, as did the "social standing" remark. She would work with the man if she had to, but that didn't mean she couldn't despise him as well.

A loud clanking noise announced the return of the blacksmith. He had set a large leather bundle on the table and was in the business of untying it. When he had her attention, he gave a broad grin that exposed rotting teeth.

"Heh, ya' won't be finding these in too many places. Nothing here that won't cut through some poor sod's gut like a hot knife through butter!"

Loosening the knot, he flipped the folds of leather open to reveal neat rows of gleaming metal. Kallian gave a tight smile.

This was more like it.

xxXxx

Twenty minutes later, she walked into the mess area feeling better than she had for a long while. In addition to several very nice knives, she had picked up a leather backpack and pair of new boots that fit better than the hand-me-down pair she'd worn from the Alienage. Tipping the blacksmith generously had elicited a promise to have her armor refitted in two hours time.

Afterwards, she had gotten directions to a leatherworker who had nodded enthusiastically when she brought him a special request. He claimed to enjoy the opportunity to work on something besides army regulation gear. Thanking him in a civil manner, she had briefly considered her options.

With three hours to kill before meeting Duncan, she had decided to find some food before she went looking for Alistair. Following the smells of ale and food, she stumbled upon the outdoor kitchen that fed the entire army.

After a long wait in the mess line, Kallian triumphantly carried her portion of mysteriously orange gruel to an empty table.

It wasn't the tastiest meal she had ever eaten, but it was hot and filling. As she was cleaning her bowl and wondering what the cook's policy was on seconds, a swarthy little man settled down across from her and grinned.

"Sooooo, you are the last recruit huh? Jory said you was an elf, but I wish he had mentioned you were a fine lookin' one at that."

She stiffened and looked over the man carefully. He wore a hunting bow on his back, and a short sword buckled at his waist. Unlike Jory, this man was wearing boiled leather armor tightly fitted to his lean frame. Short for a male human, he had the same dark complexion and hair as Duncan. But the most interesting feature she noted was the gutter accent that she had only heard in the back alleys of Denerim.

"You talked to Jory did you?" She spoke carefully.

His smile grew mischievous. "Oh yes, we had a long talk about the horribly rude elf girl who would be accompanying us." He gave her a sly look. "Anyone who can get under that one's skin is welcome in my book."

He laughed and extended a heavily calloused hand over the table. "Name's Daveth, what do you go by luv?"

She hesitated for a moment before she took his hand and shook. It wasn't smart to alienate every person she met. Especially if she was going to be relying on them to save her hide. Besides, if he didn't like Jory, she supposed he couldn't be all bad.

"Kallian Tabris." She withdrew her hand. "I take it you grew up Denerim?"

Surprise flickered across his feature before he gave her a broad smile. "Got an ear for accents have you? Well, I spent the better part of six years living in the west district, but I actually grew up 'round these parts."

Kallian perked up a little. The Wilds were a place deeply rooted in legends of magic and barbarian hoards. She had a hard time imagining a person growing up in a place like that. His experience might prove useful.

"You know the Wilds then? Do you have any idea what Duncan wants us to do out there?" She wasn't entirely certain that they would be going into wilderness, but it seemed the logical choice.

Daveth shrugged indifferently. "Dunno, all Alistair said was that we have to get something we will need for the Joining. Good bloke he is…wouldn't think a former Templar would have such a good sense of humor. What I would like to know is what exactly this Joining of ours entails."

She nodded; every time she brought it up along the trail, Duncan had just given her an unfathomable look. The entire thing was beginning to sound increasingly ominous. Lost in thought, it took her a moment to realize that Daveth had started talking again.

"…after that I just started picking pockets till I ran into Duncan. The man's faster than a snake, caught my arm long before I cut his purse. Anyway, Duncan agreed to keep the guards from hanging me so long as I agreed to join up. Sounded better than the noose and I've haven't looked back since."

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "How 'bout you? How did you end getting roped into the Wardens?"

_Oh nothing much, just the murder of several nobles…_

"Doesn't really matter does it?" She gave him an even look.

Daveth stilled and regarded her silently. She met his stare and kept her expression carefully schooled.

He frowned "No…I don't suppose it does."

After a moment, he shook his hand and gave a rueful laugh. "Maker, but you have one hell of a poker face luv. I can't quite get a read on you."

Kallian slowly swirled her spoon around in the empty bowl. She didn't like the direction this conversation had taken. She decided to shift topics.

"Do you have any idea where I might find Alistair? Duncan told me I had to speak with him before this afternoon."

Daveth lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe, when I saw him this morning he was complaining about the Reverend Mother sending him as a liaison with the mages. I'd check with her about him."

Murmuring thanks, Kallian stood and gathered her bowl to return to the kitchen. As she turned to go, Daveth called out to her.

"Good luck… and I'll watch your backside out there if you watch mine." He chuckled. "I might be getting the better deal, but it would be a shame to see a pretty little thing like you get hurt."

Kallian froze in mid-step. Her spine went stiff as a rod, and the world seemed to slow.

…_"how does a pretty little thing like you come out of an Alienage?"_

She swayed in place, and the bowl slipped out of her fingers to clatter against the floor.

…"_All dressed up and looking nice for me"…_

_..._

_Blood, metallic and sticky on her face..._

_..._

_screaming now, but someone is laughing_

_..._

_...  
_

It felt like a giant iron hand had closed over her ribs and started squeezing. It was getting difficult to breath.

A hand closed over her shoulder. "You alright luv?"

She shoved him off and practically fled from the mess area. Behind her, Daveth's confused voice was drowned out by the resounding clamor of the war camp. Panic surging through her, Kallian kept walking until she found a secluded spot and bent over gasping.

Terrified, she simply stood there trying to draw breath. It felt like her heart was bursting out of her chest while black spots swam in front of her eyes. After a few endless moments, the bands of pressure around her ribs seemed to ease; and she found herself sucking in deep, desperate breaths of air.

Falling backwards against a nearby fence, she lifted one trembling hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead. Her muscles ached like she had just run ten miles, and her pulse hammered furiously in her ears.

Shoulders slumping, she tilted her head back against the fence post and closed her eyes as she tried to fight off the last effects of the panic attack.

She wasn't even certain what caused the damned thing. One second she had been talking to Daveth, and the next she was-

"Woof"

Kallian's eyes snapped open, and the next second she was scrambling away from the fence on all fours. Whirling around as she came to her feet, she found herself face to face with the largest dog she had ever seen.

Easily three feet high at the shoulder, the beast was heavily muscled and covered in coarse brown fur. As it panted, she caught glimpses of teeth that looked big enough to punch through steel. The only thing that separated them was the rather flimsy fence she had been leaning against.

Yet, as her racing heart began to settle for the second time in an hour, she noticed that something was a little off about this dog. It was breathing heavily, and its eyes seemed tired and unhappy.

"Poor thing, he's terribly sick."

By now, Kallian was too worn out to be startled by the sudden appearance of a human by her side. She just acknowledged the man, and turned back to watch the dog pace within the small kennel. Glad have something to take her mind off the anxiety attack, Kallian stepped closer to get a better look at the animal.

"What's wrong with him?"

The man sighed. "He's been poisoned by Darkspawn blood. If he doesn't get help soon, he'll go insane and eventually die."

"Their blood is toxic?" Kallian blinked.

"Terribly so, the only thing that can help this dog is a certain flower that grows only in select parts of the Wilds. I'm unable to retrieve it, as Loghain has ordered the gates sealed for added security."

She processed this quietly while she watched the dog. The animal held her gaze with big brown eyes that seemed strangely intelligent. It gave a small whimper that all but melted her heart.

She sighed softly…as if she didn't already have enough to do.

"I may be venturing into the Wilds presently," she muttered. "Perhaps I can search for this flower."

The man looked positively delighted. "Wonderful! The flower is distinctive: a blood red center with white petals. You'll find it growing on rotten wood mostly."

"Anything else I should know?"

"Not really, although someone does need to climb into the kennel and put a muzzle on the dog so he can be safely treated." He said this while edging away from the fence.

"When you say someone…?"

"You need to put a muzzle on the dog."

Kallian cast her gaze upwards. "There's literally no one more qualified to do that in the entire camp?"

…

…

"…Nah"

xxXxx

As it turned out, finding Alistair was probably the easiest thing she had to do all morning. After speaking briefly with the Reverend Mother, she was pointed in the direction of a small stone plaza at the northernmost part of the camp. As Kallian approached, she could see a tall blond man in chain mail conversing with a man in colorful robes.

The discussion seemed to be going a tad rocky.

"Haven't I done enough for you Grey Wardens? I refuse to be harassed in such a manner!" The mage gestured angrily as he shouted at the other man.

Not wanting to interrupt, Kallian hoisted herself up onto a nearby battlement and sat with one leg dangling off the side.

"Yes, I was harassing _you _by delivering a message." The blond man was smirking at his accuser. "Incidentally, a message from the Reverend Mother…not the Grey Wardens."

The mage waved an imperious hand. "Bah! Tell that insufferable bitch that I will do as she asks so long as she minds her own business." He paused to give an impressive scowl. "Make certain she finds a new way of conveying messages as well."

Adopting a melodramatic expression of disappointment, the blond held out his hands beseechingly. "Aw, and I thought we were getting along so well! I was going to name one of my kids after you…the grumpy one."

Snorting at this, the mage turned on his heel and stormed away from the other man. Noticing Kallian on her perch, he muttered something unpleasant about gawking as he swept by.

Draping an arm over her raised knee, Kallian craned her head to watch him until he passed beyond her sight.

So far, magic and its practitioners had really failed to impress.

"You know, the one nice thing about the Blight is the way it brings people together." The blond man had walked over and stood with a small smile on his lips.

"I can see that"

He smiled a little wider and suddenly seemed very familiar. After a moment of studying his features fruitlessly, she shrugged off the feeling.

"I don't suppose you are Alistair by any chance?"

"Yes, dare I ask why you want to know?" He paused and then snapped his fingers. "Of course! Duncan told me that a new recruit would be checking in soon. He didn't say much else, aside from the fact that you were a woman."

Remembering Jory, she frowned at him. "That going to be problem?"

He laughed. "Hardly, I was just telling Daveth that Order could use a little more feminine influence. More power to you I say."

_Oh? Well that's nice…_

"Want more women in the Order do you?" She raised a brow.

"Well…I mean would that be such a bad thing? I'm just saying that it isn't much fun to be surrounded by…I'm not a drooling lecher _pleasestoplookingatmelikethat._"

She didn't let her amusement show on her face. There wasn't much point in encouraging him by smiling. He seemed nice and charming in his own right, but she had met too many humans to take him at face value.

She held out her hand, "Kallian Tabris."

He shook it with hand and lightly struck his forehead with the other. "Right, that was the name." Alistair grinned at her again. "I don't suppose you met the other two recruits by chance?"

"Maybe, is one a lecherous ex-pickpocket and the other a pompous ass of a knight?" She deadpanned.

Alistair rubbed the back of his head and nervously chuckled. "Lovely, good to know you are already on the path to making friends." He clapped his hands together. "We are supposed to meet Duncan in half-hour, want to accompany me?"

Kallian shrugged and slid off the battlement. While they had been talking, she had enjoyed being able to have a conversation with someone without having to look up. On level ground, Alistair stood a good head and a half over her.

_Sigh…such is the curse of being an elf in a human's world. _

Still wearing that slightly idiotic grin, Alistair began to lead the way with a long stride that swiftly outpaced her.

Trotting at his side to keep up, she glanced sideways at him.

"Do you mind stopping at the blacksmith and leatherworker with me? I have to pick up my orders."

Alistair shrugged. "Sure, maybe I can find some leather pants that don't clash with my formal shirt. It is _so _difficult to keep up with fashion while at war."

She finally smirked. "You are a rather odd human aren't you?"

"It has been said."

xxXxx

* * *

Thanks a million to the people who took the time to review or added me to a watchlist. I truly appreciate it.

I greatly value any advice you can give on how to grow as a writer.

Also, looking forward to getting into some action next chapter. It isn't Dragon Age without a little ultraviolence.


	4. Us of Lesser Gods

Fair warning: I wrote this while recovering from oral surgery. I was on a mild narcotic for most of it; so if it's a little weird or anything...I blame the medical establishment.

Chapter 4: Us of Lesser Gods

The Wilds-Ostagar

_The reward of a thing well done, is to have done it -Ralph Waldo Emerson _

* * *

"I don't understand...why do we need Darkspawn blood in order to join the Wardens?"

From his position at the back of the group, Alistair rolled his eyes as Jory posed the question for what felt like the hundredth time.

Since they had entered the Wilds, the knight had been doing his best to subtly troll for information about the Joining. After directly asking Alistair had produced no results, Jory had simply started to voice his questions to no one in particular. It was clear that the man was beginning to succumb to nerves.

"No idea," answered Daveth. His voice held the same irritation that Alistair felt. "Maybe Duncan bathes in it to keep lookin' so pretty. Who cares? Let's just get the stuff and be on our way."

Privately, Alistair agreed with the sentiment. Wading through a foul-smelling marsh while wearing thirty pounds of chainmail ranked rather low on his "fun times" scale. Still, the Wilds were a big improvement over the place he went to for his initiation. That particular section of the Deep Roads had been populated primarily by gigantic spiders.

He had ruined a perfectly good pair of smallclothes as a result of that particular excursion.

To be fair though, the Wilds did have a lot going for it in the creepy department. There was the eerie green light, the ever-present mist, the encompassing smell of rotting flesh, and of course, the unseen creatures that skittered about in the brush.

Really, if he were an unspeakable abomination, he would consider making it a summer home at the very least.

Ahead of him, Jory had lapsed into an unhappy silence after Daveth snapped at him. Despite the fact that he was a knight of Redcliff, Jory was the one who seemed the jitteriest in the group. He had taken to reflexively jerking a hand to his sword at every odd noise that echoed out of the fog. Of all of them, Alistair had thought that a knight of Redcliff would be best prepared for the difficulties a Grey Warden faced. Now he just wondered if Arl Eamon was getting lax in his standards.

Then again, the man had mentioned something about winning the annual tournament. Alistair could withhold judgment until he saw Jory use that huge sword of his.

Besides, even if he didn't know it, the man had good reason to be worried about the Joining.

Daveth halted and held up a single hand to motion them to a stop. Alistair peered into the gloom, but he couldn't discern the reason for the thief's caution. Eventually, the man relaxed and motioned them onwards.

To his surprise, Daveth was shaping up to be an excellent leader. As he walked at the head of the group, the man seemed entirely at ease. A born native of the Wilds, Daveth had proved all but invaluable as he directed them along routes that avoided bogs and other obstacles. Unlike Jory, he exuded an aura of self-confidence and competence that Alistair found himself envying.

The ex-pickpocket had outfitted himself in a leather ensemble that was stained to create camouflage. He held his intricately carved hunting bow at his side as he walked. In short, he looked the part of the dangerous hunter.

Daveth was a perfect fit for the Order; it was one of the few places where a man could rise beyond his background. The Grey Wardens weren't all heroes; in fact some of the best Wardens were what Alistair would politely call "colorful" characters.

On that note, he looked over to assess the last member of the group.

Kallian had walked with single-minded purpose ever since they had left the camp. Unlike Daveth and Jory, she had neither spoken nor shown any particular interest in her surroundings. Of all the recruits, he had the most misgivings about the elf girl.

Standing no more than an inch above five feet, she looked like she might have trouble fighting off anything more troublesome than a kitten. He had hoped at first that she was an archer, but it turned out that she eschewed anything larger than a dagger. Based on the wide selection of custom sheaths she had bought from the leatherworker, he assumed she had a small armory on her. This was mostly a guess, as the only weapon he could see was a large, curved knife sheathed at the small of her back.

Her hardened leather armor consisted of a breastplate, bracers, and greaves; which she wore over a white cotton shirt and leather pants. It was minimal protection, and Alistair faintly wished she had chosen something that would actually give her a fighting chance.

Sighing, he shook his head and fixed his eyes on the trail before them. A prickling sensation along his scalp was the first warning he had that Darkspawn were about. It was faint, and he guessed they were still a few miles off. He'd warn the recruits once they had gotten close enough to pose a threat.

Ahead of them, Alistair could see that the dense tree line was beginning to open up. The ground became a little firmer, and he smiled as his heavy boots no longer sank several inches with every step.

He was interested to see Daveth drop back to walk alongside Kallian. As casually as could be, he struck up a conversation with her. Another point in his favor: he seemed to understand that the group needed to interact if they were ever to trust each other with their lives.

"Mind me askin' about your profession before joining up? Couldn't help but overhear Duncan mention it before the two of you split this morning."

She frowned. "You were spying on us outside of camp?"

"Perish the thought luv! I was just leaning against a wall when I happened to recognize Duncan's voice. It ain't eavesdropping if it wasn't my intention to hear."

He then waggled his eyebrows. "Let me guess...it's somethin' embarrassing isn't it? If I recall, plenty of the Alienage girls took up the oldest profession if you get my meaning. Not that I'm judging mind you."

Kallian gave him a withering look that only made him grin wider.

"No, it was nothing like that. What Duncan was referring to was my tendency to enter places I didn't belong…and leave with things that didn't belong to me."

_Lovely, she's a cat burglar. I suppose if this whole Darkspawn hunting thing doesn't pan out, we can always form a thieves' guild or something. _

She cleared her throat. "I also worked as a pickpocket, and ran a scam that tricked people into thinking they were giving charity to orphans. We needed the money," she gave Daveth a quick glance. "You do what you have to."

Daveth shrugged.

"Like I said, you won't find me judging nobody. Denerim's a shit place, and the only way to come out on top is to be a shit person once in a while."

Signaling a quick break, Daveth drew a water skin out of his bag and gulped down a few mouthfuls. He wiped his mouth before continuing.

"I did my fair share of hurting and thieving while I was living on the streets. I never enjoyed it, but I did it anyway. Way I figure it, doin' bad things don't always make someone a bad person. Sometimes, you just don't have other options" He reached over to offer the skin to the elf.

To Alistair's surprise, she took it with a short nod. Daveth had adopted an uncharacteristically serious demeanor. Unless he was a spectacular actor, it appeared as though he was genuinely trying to empathize with the girl.

Alistair smiled, that was the right move. Kallian had done everything in her power to keep the three of them at arm's length. She had stood apart from them during the briefing, and answered most attempts at conversation with contemptuous glares. If Daveth could get her to thaw out a little, Kallian would be a great deal easier to work with.

He then winced when Jory chose this moment to enter the discussion.

"I'm not certain I would agree. A person's actions account for more that their intentions. A hard life might explain the reason for crime, but it doesn't excuse criminal behavior."

Alistair watched the recruits with interest; Daveth was giving the knight an exasperated look while Kallian's face had lost all expression.

"Could you ask a person to choose between starvation and turning to crime Ser Knight?" She asked this levelly, but Alistair could see tension settling around her shoulders.

"No, I would ask them to seek aid at the Chantry; or better yet, find a job through their Bann or Arl. They should try anything before harming their fellow man for their own needs."

Kallian sneered at him. "You really think no one has tried that before? The Chantry can't help everyone, and most of the nobles don't give a damn about whether we live or die."

"Fine, but you have to agree, that the law would be unfair if it mitigated punishment on account of intentions. The victim is stilled harmed regardless of the motivation. There is no reason good enough to excuse such behavior."

Kallian made a disgusted sound. "Only someone who's never gone a week without food could say something as foolish as that."

Her golden eyes blazed as she glared at Jory. "You speak of the law being unfair? Tell me, where is the guard when some elf gets his house burned down for being uppity? Why is it that a noble can beat a pickpocket to death in the marketplace and no one raises an objection?"

The girl was literally trembling with rage as she bit her words out. As she spoke, her voice had steadily risen in volume.

"I don't need some arrogant human knight telling me about what's right and wrong. As far as I'm concerned, you humans wouldn't know justice if it smacked you in the face. You are a bloated and ignorant race of hypocrites that have caused more damage than any Blight!"

Having practically shouted the last words, the elf stood back to sweep them with her hot glare. A heavy silence fell in the wake of her diatribe.

Dumbfounded, Jory's mouth was working open and closed as he processed his outrage. Alistair stared at the elf, marveling at the sheer force of her antipathy. Duncan had brought a nice little bundle of issues back from Denerim.

_Hmmm, awkward philosophic debates and outright racism…is it premature to call this a bonding moment?_

Daveth coughed. "Gonna' have to argue with you luv. Ignorant?...yes, hypocritical?...probably, but bloated?" He gave her a hurt look. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked to fit into these leathers?"

Alistair couldn't help it; Daveth's expression combined with the uncomfortable setting was just too much. He laughed.

All three recruits jumped and looked at him. After a moment, Daveth joined him in laughter, and Jory's face broke into an uncertain smile.

Off to one side, Kallian watched them all with an unreadable look before turning away to begin walking once more. Apparently, she was going to continue to be the little raincloud over their picnic.

Regaining composure, Daveth straightened and made to call out to the retreating elf. Abruptly, he stiffened when a faint gust of wind passed over them. He hissed a warning and nocked an arrow to his bowstring.

"What is it?" Jory moved closer to Daveth.

"Hard to say exactly, but there's the smell of blood on the wind."

Ahead of them, crouched low against a tree, Kallian gave them an impatient look. She had walked far enough away that Daveth's whisper didn't carry.

Daveth flicked a glance back at Alistair. "What do you think we should do?"

"I'm not here to lead you, just to give advice and help however I can. Go ahead and make your own choices, I'll say something if I think it necessary."

There was truth to that; this was supposed to be a test of their resourcefulness. That it kept him from having to assume a leadership role was an added bonus.

Daveth grimly nodded. "Right, well we came here for blood. I guess we can't really turn back now that we've found it."

With that, he lowered into a crouch and began to slowly move the direction he had indicated. As he passed by her, Kallian slid in behind him as quietly as a shadow. A short, flat knife had magically appeared in her hand.

After loosening his sword in the scabbard, Alistair drew his shield off his back and motioned for Jory to take the rear. Carefully, the group moved through the trees while trying not to telegraph their presence. More than once, Kallian shot Alistair an irritated glare at the soft clinking noises his chainmail made when he moved.

Rolling his eyes, Alistair chose to ignore her. It was easy to be quiet when you weren't wearing heavy armor and carrying a broadsword.

Upon reaching the edge of a clearing, both Daveth and Kallian kept low. Ahead of them stood a shattered wagon surrounded by motionless bodies. By now, Alistair could clearly smell the scent of blood and death around them.

Daveth and Kallian engaged in a whispered conversation that included a great deal of pointing. Abruptly, they split up and began to circle the border of the clearing in opposite directions. Recognition flared through Alistair, and he motioned Jory to his side. As he relayed instructions to the knight, he briefly wondered how a pair of thieves knew a military flanking maneuver.

Slowly, the team spread out into a semi-circle that framed one end of the clearing. After a time, Daveth gave a low bird call that was answered by Kallian's whistle. With that, the group cautiously entered the clearing with weapons at the ready.

"Keep an eye on the trees…and watch each other's backs." Daveth kept his bow raised as he scanned the wilderness around them. Jory moved up behind him as Kallian knelt by the corpses.

Something by Alistair's feet caught the light as he moved closer. Bending down, he frowned as he came up with a blackened blade that was somewhere between a knife and a sword. Only one type of creature used weapons this stained and rusted.

"Darkspawn did this,' he held the weapon up for inspection as the recruits gathered around. "This is their type of equipment; you can even see wher-"

A cough caused all of them to start. Amazingly, one of the blood-soaked bodies stirred before opening its eyes. "T-thank the Maker you have come."

Alistair blinked. "Well, he isn't half as dead as he looks."

Jory and Daveth moved to help the man sit up with his back against a log. His torso was covered in blood, and Alistair could see a nasty wound gaping in his side. Making an educated guess, Alistair offered the man some water.

After he caught his breath, the man peered at them with bleary eyes. "We were on a scouting and foraging assignment when they hit us. There were so many…we didn't stand a chance."

_Odd, there shouldn't have been a sizable force in these parts so soon…_

"You hear that? We shouldn't be out here with an entire army of Darkspawn!" Jory was getting jumpy. Daveth made exasperated noise and threw the knight a disgruntled look.

"Aren't Knights of Redcliff supposed to be brave in the face of danger?"

Jory colored as he faced the shorter man. "I have a wife who is expecting a child. I do not desire to die in some swamp and abandon them to the world. That doesn't make me a coward."

"Sounds like something a coward would say."

"Shut up you!" Jory whirled around to face the elf. "You've done nothing but act intolerably since I have met you!"

Kallian gave him a bored look as she twirled her knife through her fingers. Deciding to intervene before this escalated further, Alistair got between them and raised his voice.

"We don't have to worry about Darkspawn ambushes, I can guarantee it. One of the abilities of a Grey Warden is our capacity to sense Darkspawn. If a large force comes too close, I'll call off the assignment and we will return to Ostagar." He met their gazes slowly. "Incidentally, we are about half a mile away from a small contingent. Nothing we can't handle."

Daveth chuckled. "See Ser Knight? We may be slaughtered, but at least we will have plenty of warning."

Jory grumbled something, but looked significantly happier as he rummaged through his pack. "Hold on, I got some bandages in here. Let's get this man fixed up so we can take him back to camp."

"No," Kallian looked over. "We don't have time for that. Duncan's given us a lot to do, and I don't think any of us want to be in these woods after dark. We should move on."

_Hmmm, remind me not to get injured around that one._

"Unbelievable" Jory shook his head and set to bandaging the man. "You just keep getting worse and worse. Don't you know anything of basic human kindness?"

The elf scoffed as she strode away. "I know the depths of "human" kindness far better than you shem."

Jory scowled at her back.

Alistair wasn't entirely sure what "shem" meant, but he was fairly certain it wasn't flattering. Seeing this unexpected delay as a blessing in disguise, he walked over to where Kallian leaned against a tree.

"I know Jory isn't the easiest man to get along with, but it might be wise to make a better effort. There's a very good chance that the two of you will be depending on each other for survival very soon. It may be best to ease up on the "rotten humans" thing as well."

She gave him a sidelong glance but offered no other response.

_Ok, Plan B_

He exhaled softly. "Tell you what, wait till you fight your first Darkspawn, and then tell me if there is anything in the world you wouldn't put aside to stop them."

For a second, her eyes lost her usual hard look, and he caught a glimpse of uncertainty before she looked away. When she spoke though, her voice was still toneless.

"Sure shem, just don't get your hopes up."

"Fantastic…well that about dries up my supply of cryptic wisdom. From here on out, it's just snappy one-liners and irresistible charm." He said it with a smile, hoping to make her laugh.

She cocked a brow and gave him an odd look…_good enough._

As it turned out, after he was all bandaged up, the wounded soldier felt like he could make it back by himself. It was probably for the best, as returning to camp would eat up a few hours that they really didn't have.

Just as they were getting ready to leave, Alistair stopped them when he felt the Darkspawn just beyond the tree line.

"Right, they are pretty horrible when you see them for the first time. Just remember that they can die and feel pain just like anything else."

He received a chorus of nods as the group drew their weapons and prepared themselves. Alistair knew they were nervous; it hadn't been too long ago since he was in the same position.

Breaking cover, the group advanced forward quickly and quietly. Once free of the trees, their enemy came into sight in all their nightmarish glory. Behind him, he heard Kallian issue a small gasp in horror.

He had been right in sensing that it was small force. Three Hurlocks towered over the four Genlocks on the crest of a small hill. Upon seeing the Warden recruits, the monsters released guttural cries as they charged down the slope. Two of the Genlocks stayed behind, already bringing their crude bows to bear.

"Daveth, focus on the archers!" Alistair yelled as he caught an arrow on his shield. He didn't look to see if the man obeyed, just turned to meet the first Genlock.

Less than four feet tall, the small green-skinned creature snarled viscously as it raced towards him. Its lipless mouth revealed needle like teeth, and its beady, viscous eyes glowed with single-minded hatred. In one grimy paw, it brandished a crude axe that dripped with corruption.

The monster's attack was untrained, and devoid of any skill or forethought. It simply swung a heavy overhand blow that Alistair easily turned aside with his shield. Left open, the Genlock gave a high pitched squeal as his thrust punched through its rank leather armor.

Twisting the blade to keep it from sticking in the creature's flesh, Alistair withdrew his sword in time to parry the slash of a nearby Hurlock.

Larger than its Genlock cousins, the Hurlock resembled a twisted parody of a human. Alistair shuddered as he took in the bleached skin of its hairless skull.

Unprepared for its attack, Alistair backpedaled as he raised his shield to fend off the oncoming blows. Though no better disciplined than the Genlock, the Hurlock was stronger and didn't suffer from a reach disadvantage.

Finally regaining proper footing, Alistair pushed his weight forward to strike out with his shield. His first blow battered the monster's shield to the side, and his second split the thing's skull with a wet crack.

The Hurlock slumped to the ground. Alistair thrust his blade into its heart to ensure that it wouldn't be getting back up. Yanking his sword free, he looked around widely to assess the situation of the recruits.

Daveth had killed both of the enemy archers, and was in the process of helping Jory finish a wounded Hurlock. Deciding they had the situation in hand, he turned to check on Kallian.

Some twenty yards away, she danced about quickly to avoid the wicked blade of the last Hurlock. Nearby, a Genlock crawled on its hands and knees while clutching at an enormous wound in its neck.

As he watched, Kallian dashed under the Hurlock's guard and viciously stabbed upward into its forearm. Screaming, the creature relinquished its weapon before cuffing the elf to the ground.

_Uh-oh _

Alistair began charging over to where to Hurlock now raised its shield to bring down on the prone girl.

As it turned out, Alistair needn't have bothered.

Lashing out with a booted foot, Kallian connected solidly with the side of the creature's knee. The joint bent outwards with a sickly crunch as the creature collapsed onto its other leg. Gripping the top of its breast plate, Kallian gained leverage and jammed her knife upwards into its chin.

Not finished, the elf girl yanked her blade out, reversed the grip, and began to repeatedly stab the Hurlock in the area between its neck and shoulder.

By the time he reached her, Kallian had released the creature and was breathing heavily. He could see flecks of black blood spotting her armor and face. When she turned to him, he was astonished that her cheeks were wet with tears.

Unsure of what to do, Alistair looked away while the elf furiously pawed at her eyes. A crying girl was enough to unman even the toughest of heroes.

So, he said the only thing that came to mind. "You did really well for your first time."

She shook her head. "No, I froze up when they first came at me. It was sheer luck that the little one's first blow didn't hit me. If he hadn't tripped…" her voice trailed off.

The girls sniffed and looked at the ground. Awkwardly, Alistair raised his hand and rested it on her shoulder. She stiffened, but didn't move away as he spoke.

"Don't take it too hard, I nearly screamed my head off when I saw them for the first time. It's the reaction everybody gets when they see Darkspawn. I think it may only be natural to hate and fear them."

Kallian shuffled her feet as she nudged the Hurlock's corpse. Biting her lip, the elf glanced up at him, and then over at where Jory and Daveth were filling vials with blood.

"They're the worst thing I have ever seen. The entire time we were fighting, all I could think about was how much they didn't belong." She sighed. "How I didn't belong."

"This isn't the life I should be living. No elf girl thinks she's going to grow up to fight monsters. I just want someone to take me back to the way life used to be."

She kicked the Hurlock again. "Anyway, I was fighting this one and I just started to cry."

When she looked at him, her expression was unguarded and vulnerable.

"They scare me."

He wasn't sure why she decided to open up, but he knew that this was an opportunity to get past her defenses. Tightening his grip on her shoulder, Alistair spoke softly, as if to a nervous horse.

"I understand, they frighten me as well. It just means that you have the sense to know that something like that shouldn't exist." He grinned. "And anyone who can do that to a Hurlock belongs right where they are."

She gave him a shy smile that softened her features.

_Oh…you know, she's really rather pretty. _

"You were right," she said. "I would do anything to keep things like this away from the people I care about. Even if it means working with a bunch of sodding shems."

Alistair laughed; it seemed she still had her unique charm. Bending down, he helped her with the unpleasant task of collecting the thing's blood.

…

…

"I hope you don't think this means that I will apologize to Jory."

"The thought never even crossed my mind."

xxXxx

Three hours had passed since the group left the camp at Ostagar. Ever the optimist, Alistair hoped they would have another two hours before sunset.

The recruits had made admirable progress through the marsh after the initial encounter. At several points, they'd encountered small groups of Darkspawn warriors. To his surprise, they now worked together as a passably efficient group.

Without a doubt, Jory was the most effective warrior among them. For all of his worrying, the man was an exceptional swordsman with a keen understanding of combat. If he made it through the Joining, Alistair believed Jory could do great things for the Order.

Daveth's confidence as a leader had grown. In addition to showing remarkable prowess with his bow, the man now reacted to threats appropriately. He was also the type of man that people followed without complaint.

Thankfully, Kallian had become a great deal more civil even if she wasn't friendly. Since their talk on the hill, she had taken to traveling next to him. His misgivings about her abilities had been completely disproven. Though unconventional, he had to admit that she was an outright terror with those little knives.

Now, their little trek had led them to the wooden Chasind Bridge that Duncan had mentioned in the briefing. That should have been a good thing but….

"This is an ambush." Daveth stated outright.

_Yep, definitely an ambush_

Not that it was a particularly good one either; the location just screamed "here be ambushes". Furthermore, the Darkspawn apparently thought it was good form to just hang corpses from stakes or what not. It really made it easy to tell when they were about.

He sighed. "You're probably right, but it's the only way to reach the old watchtower. I can sense a few Darkspawn, but it's hard to pinpoint their position."

Resigned, the group began to make their way over the wooden bridge. Kallian led the way; she'd demonstrated an uncanny knack for spotting traps that others missed. Halfway across, Alistair game to a dead halt as he felt an all too familiar feeling.

A small group of Hurlocks had appeared on the opposite end of the bridge. But Alistair's attention was on the lone figure that stood at the front. Covered in wrappings and strange fetishes, the Emissary raised its spindly arm to point a gnarled staff of wood at them.

"Magic!" He screamed even as the spell swept over them.

Ahead, Kallian collapsed to her knees and vomited. He didn't have to look to know that Daveth and Jory were in a similar state. Only his Templar training kept Alistair on his feet as the insidious spell struck.

An Emissary wasn't like the conventional mages found in a Circle tower. Their magic was more like an inherently foul parody of that which was used by men and elves. Despite the distinction, he knew that they drew strength from the same source.

Reaching inside of himself, Alistair mentally prepared to nullify all the magic in the area. Envisioning a solid white sphere of nothingness, he willed it to explode out of his body. Though he hadn't preformed the technique for some time, he was gratified to feel the pulse of energy that signified his success.

Abruptly, the pressure of the spell lifted with the sharp crack of displaced air. Across the bridge, the Emissary let out of bark of surprise when the magical feedback struck him.

For his part, Alistair moaned as the blinding pain in his head forced him to his knees.

"Kill the mage," he croaked weakly.

Dimly, he saw Kallian prop herself up and whip a hand forward. The Emissary's head snapped back as her dagger embedded itself in its eye.

Around him, he heard the others enter battle as he knelt in the middle of the bridge. Without lyrium to fortify his abilities, Alistair had overextended himself severely. The white hot pain made it difficult to see, let alone think.

_Maker…this is awful_

Staggering to his feet, Alistair watched Jory finish off the last of the remaining Darkspawn. All three of the recruits looked shaken as they regrouped.

Daveth was busy cutting his arrows out of a few corpses. "So that was magic huh? I never knew it could do something like that."

"It felt like my body was going to fall apart." Kallian was rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "You alright Alistair?"

"Fine, just need a moment to catch my breath."

Daveth offered him a small flask. "Try a little of this, I think you deserve it after saving all of our hides. We're damn lucky that you were a Templar once."

Waving the spirits away, Alistair straightened out and pinched the bridge of his nose. The searing headache had subsided to a dull throb that seemed mild in comparison. Daveth shrugged and took a long pull of the drink.

"Alright, everyone take a few minutes to get their bearings. If what Duncan said was correct, the outpost isn't more than a few hundred yards up the trail."

The recruits gave weary nods as they indulged in a brief respite. Alistair smiled slightly when he saw Kallian toss her water skin to Jory. When he got over his shock, the knight nodded in thanks before drinking deeply.

_Everyone's alive and I'm bridging connections over racial barriers. This is definitely going under my win column. _

After a time, Alistair indicated that they should go. Night was fast approaching, and Alistair knew that Duncan would be expecting them back in a few hours.

Mercifully, the rest of the journey to the outpost was free of any Darkspawn. Tired but triumphant, the small group entered the ruins of the Grey Warden watchtower without any difficulty.

Inside, it wasn't difficult to locate the chest that purportedly held the ancient treaties. It was pretty much the only thing left in the entire place. He had been told by Duncan that powerful magic prevented the chest from being moved or opened by strangers.

Apparently, no one had told that to whoever smashed the lid of the chest.

Kallian bent down to examine what remained. She looked back and confirmed his fears.

"It's empty, they're gone."

Duncan wouldn't be too pleased about that. Alistair clenched his jaw in frustration; everything had been going so well up until now.

"Well, what do we have here? Trespassers and scavengers picking the flesh from bones long since stripped?"

The newcomer was a woman whose very appearance set Alistair's teeth on edge. Dressed in a distracting ensemble that revealed almost as much as it covered, the woman was clearly a denizen of the Wilds. Feathers adorned her black hair, and pale yellow eyes regarded them with mocking amusement. It was her staff though, that made his hand twitch towards his sheathed sword.

_An apostate, likely a maleficar with our luck_

Apostates were mages who operated outside of the authority of the Circle of Magic. Considered outlaws by the Chantry, they were hunted and often executed by the Order of Templars. Maleficars were simply the very worst of the bunch; mages who delved into forbidden magic.

It was Jory who issued a rejoinder. "It is you who are trespassing. This tower is property of the Grey Wardens."

The woman smiled sardonically. "This _tower _is the property of the bats and crows that defecate inside of its walls. 'Tis a wonder that you could claim a building that hasn't been inhabited for hundreds of years."

"A witch of the wilds!" Daveth hissed in his ear. "Watch her closely or she will turn us all into frogs!"

Across from them, the woman slowly circled to stand over the chest that Kallian had been checking. From his position, Alistair caught a glimpse of the elf palming one of her throwing knives.

Good, if this turned ugly, he wanted it to be over quickly.

"Hmph, a label that is as pejorative as it is inaccurate," The woman gave Daveth a frosty glare. "Twould seem as though the Wardens care little about propriety and manners."

Her mocking tone was beginning to grate on Alistair's nerves. Before he could say something to the effect, the apostate turned her smile on Kallian.

"Well, how about you then? Women don't scare as easily as men." She leapt down off her perch, and stalked over to the elf. "If you give me your name, then I shall give you mine."

Kallian gave her an appraising look. "My name is Kallian Tabris. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Well! Now _that _is a proper greeting." The woman smiled down at Kallian. "You may call me Morrigan if you wish."

"Careful, she looks like she may be Chasind to me." Jory was watching the exchange nervously.

"What? Are you expecting a hoard of barbarians to come swooping down upon you at any moment?" Morrigan threw her arms up to waggle her fingers theatrically.

Alistair decided this conversation had strayed a little too far from its proper course. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Yes, _swooping _is bad." He gave a meaningful look to Daveth. "However, we are perhaps more concerned about whatever evil witchy…witch thing you are planning."

"How…eloquent," she gave him a sneer. "I on the other hand, am curious as to what you are looking for in an old tower. Perhaps something that should have been in that chest over there?"

"So you are the one who stole the documents." He felt his voice getting heated.

"'Tis only fitting that you are presumptuous as well. I took nothing from this chest, because the chest held nothing I would need."

Kallian cocked her head to one side. "I wonder, do you know who might have taken it?"

"I do, she is my mother."

"Can you take us to her?" Kallian smirked.

Morrigan gave the elf a look of approval. It seemed as if she liked Kallian's cut to the chase attitude.

"Finally, we have arrived at the appropriate question. Yes, I can you take you to our house…I just can't promise you won't regret the decision."

She turned then, and began to stride off in the direction she came from. Casting a playful look over her shoulder, Morrigan motioned outside.

"Follow then"

Daveth snorted. "Not a chance, she'll put us in the pot she will."

"Huh, if the pot's warmer than this place, it'll be a blessing." Jory's attempt at humor didn't cover the undercurrent of anxiety.

Kallian said nothing, merely flicked a glance in Alistair's direction as she moved to follow the apostate.

Alistair sighed as he walked after her.

_Yes…follow the mysterious witch to meet her thieving mother. This has to be a cautionary tale in the making. _

xxXxx

Even as they approached Duncan's fire, Alistair couldn't help but feel like they had gotten off too easily. Morrigan's mother had turned out to be a slightly unstable old woman named Flemeth. Not only had she given them the treaties, but she had done so without asking a single thing of them. All she had said was that she expected the Grey Wardens to find a good use for them.

Afterwards, she'd told Morrigan show them a faster path through the swamp. They had arrived in camp just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Now though, the looming shadow of the Joining ritual hung over the group. Alistair could see that each of the recruits was lost in his or her thoughts.

Duncan examined the treaties and blood vials with an approving eye. He looked over the three recruits for a moment before beginning.

"You have all done well to come this far. I must warn you now, once you undertake the Joining, there will be no turning back." He paused. "Take the next twenty minutes to prepare yourselves and then meet me at the northernmost observation point."

The three exchanged glances and moved off as a group. Duncan collected the glass vials and handed the treaties to Alistair.

"How did you feel about leading your first assignment?" He motioned for Alistair to follow him.

Alistair squirmed. "I wouldn't use the word "lead" really, I just sort of directed things. Still, I think it went pretty well."

Duncan chuckled and smiled at him. "One day, I think you will realize that you are more than capable of being a leader. Tell me though; was there any trouble worth mentioning?"

"Sure, Daveth is impulsive, Jory's subject to nerves, and Kallian doesn't work well with others. By that I mean humans."

For a time, the two men walked in silence while Duncan processed this. As the Warden Commander of Ferelden, it was Duncan's duty to make an informed decision about the recruits. Letting the wrong sort in was the one thing the Order did not tolerate.

"I see…do you believe that any of this should bar them from the Joining?"

Alistair gave an uncomfortable shrug. "Not really…I think most of it would go away with time. I was a little worried about Kallian at first, but she seems to be warming up."

"She has had a difficult life; more so than most. I expect that much of her anger towards humans stems from her experiences in the Alienage. My hope is that exposure to better men will eventually cause her to shed her preconceptions."

He paused for a long time before he continued.

"Alistair, I want you to be careful around Kallian. If she ever seems…different, I want you to keep away from her until she recognizes you."

Alistair frowned. "I don't understand, what do you mean by "different"? For that matter, why wouldn't she recognize me?"

Duncan shook his head. "I cannot say, for it is not my place to discuss the previous lives of Wardens. All I require is that you do as I ask. Can you do this?"

"Of course Duncan, I'm confused, but I'll keep it in mind."

"See that you do."

They arrived at the northern observation point a short time later. Alistair smiled as he remembered his conversation with the mage earlier this afternoon. The man had been practically fuming by the end.

Now though, the space was dominated by a large, silver chalice that stood upon the stone sundial. As he watched, Duncan uncorked the vials and upturned their contents into the cup. A feeling of expectant dread arose in Alistair as he turned to wait for the arrival of the recruits.

He didn't wait long.

During their short rest, they had all taken off their cumbersome armor and stood in simple clothing. Of course, they all still carried their weapons. No one wanted to face the unknown without a blade at hand.

"So now we come to the Joining; the oldest and most important tradition of our Order. It is here that you will partake in the blood of the enemy, and thus become the instruments of their undoing."

Duncan's words provoked a response.

"We're going to drink the blood of those things?" Jory gasped. "But it is poison!"

Alistair saw the same level of horror and disgust reflected on the faces of the Kallian and Daveth. They both looked too ill at the thought to protest.

"Yes, Darkspawn blood is among the most potent of poisons. For a select few however, the taint can be overcome. This is how we are able to hear the call of the Archdemon, and sense the presence of the creatures."

Duncan lifted the chalice from the table and walked over to where the recruits stood. "Before we begin, Alistair will recite the traditional words. They are brief, but they have been a part of every Joining since the Order's inception."

Alistair could not bring himself to meet their eyes as he spoke.

_"Since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony: _

_Join us, brothers and sisters. _

_Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. _

_Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. _

_And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. _

_And that one day we shall join you."_

Stepping back, he stared at the floor. His part in the ceremony had come to an end. Now all he could do was pray.

"Daveth, step forward and accept this test." Duncan held the chalice out.

With a single, short nod to the others, Daveth stepped forward and lifted the chalice to his mouth. Alistair could see his throat working as he gulped down the blood. Lowering the cup he handed it back to Duncan.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Daveth's eyelids snapped open to pure white orbs. He made a strangled, coughing noise as he aspirated black fluid. Clawing at his throat, the thief crumpled to the ground.

"I'm sorry Daveth." Duncan's voice was heavy with sorrow.

On the ground, Daveth's body convulsed violently before becoming still.

Jory stepped back, "by the M-Maker."

"Ser Jory, step forward and accept this test."

Jory was steadily walking away from Duncan. Slowly, he reached behind his shoulder to unsheathe the great sword off of his back.

"I've got a wife and a child waiting for me back in Redcliff. You can't expect me to drink poison and just die for nothing!"

"There is no turning back." Duncan set the cup down and advanced on the knight while drawing a long knife out of his belt. Alistair looked away.

"There's no honor in this!" Jory's voice was hysterical.

Ser Jory was a fantastic swordsman, but Duncan was something else entirely. Their fight lasted only a heartbeat. When Alistair looked back, Jory lay in a pool of his own blood.

"I am sorry Ser Jory."

Knowing what was to come, Alistair drew his eyes up to watch the last recruit. Kallian was gazing openmouthed at Jory's corpse. When Duncan approached, he saw nothing but cold steel in the man's eyes.

"Kallian Tabris, step forward and accept this test."

Slowly, the girl walked up to him and held out her hands. When the cup was pressed into her hands, she simply held on to it with two trembling arms.

She looked so absurdly small and afraid, that Alistair had to stop himself from saying anything to comfort her.

Kallian looked at Duncan. "If I don't make it…" she swallowed. "Will you tell my father that I died without any pain or anything?"

"I will do this." Duncan's eyes were softer now. "You must do this now child."

Alistair met her frightened eyes and tired to give her a comforting smile. Letting out a shuddering breath, the girl closed her eyes.

Then, Kallian lifted the chalice…and drank.

* * *

Happy Holidays to everyone!

The gift of reviews is always appreciated.


	5. Red at Night

I took some liberties with the events at Ostagar. Mostly to move things along. I've been taking the events of the game at a pretty rushed pace so far. I think that starting with the next chapter, I hope to slow down the action a little once we enter the exciting parts. Hope you enjoy

Chapter 5: Red at Night

Ostagar-The Tower of Ishal-The Wilds

_Regret not that which is past; and trust not to thine own righteousness -Saint Anthony_

_

* * *

_

Kallian was lost in nightmares, a chaotic world of ash and sickly light.

Around her, a swirling maelstrom of horrifying images flickered in and out of existence. Visions of towns burning, people dying, and a great winged beast that dominated all things. The onslaught was punctuated by an omnipresent roar that thundered inside of her skull.

Writhing on her back, Kallian helplessly tore at her own throat as she fought to draw breath. The steady poison of the tainted blood burned as it permeated her body. Terrified, the elf had regressed into a primal state as she thrashed about.

Her back arched off the blasted landscape as another agonizing spasm forced her to go rigid. With the certainty of the damned, Kallian knew she had failed the Joining. Soon, like Daveth, she would succumb to the poison and die.

Then, with startling abruptness, the cacophonous roar came to merciful halt. Kneeling beside her, a figure gently laid a cool hand against her burning forehead. Blinking through her watering eyes, Kallian beheld a familiar sight.

The woman's face had become no more distinct since the last time Kallian had seen her; a shifting collage of possibilities that blurred and danced constantly. At the woman's touch, the pain of the poison receded in a merciful tide.

Gasping, Kallian could only stare up at the ghostly apparition who had haunted her dreams for so long. Trying to speak only provoked a vicious coughing fit from her parched throat. Gently stroking her hair, the radiant figure shook her head.

"No, not yet"

xxXxx

Kallian jolted awake to find herself lying on hard stone. Above her, the world swam slowly into view. Moaning weakly, she rolled onto her side and vomited.

Say one thing about Darkspawn blood, say it tastes even worse the second time around.

"Ah, now _that_ brings me back to my own moment of glory." Alistair slightly amused voice sounded somewhere above her. "It's not terribly dignified, but it's definitely better to let it out than to keep it in."

He placed an arm around her back to ease her into a sitting position. Nearby, Duncan was looking at her with pride despite her unflattering predicament. Kallian wiped her mouth with the back of one hand.

"So, am I in?"

Duncan gave a small laugh. "You were a Grey Warden from the moment that blood touched your lips. That fact that you survived the Joining just means you will serve with us longer."

Accepting Alistair's arm, Kallian allowed herself to be hauled to her feet. Standing on shaky legs, she tiredly looked around the observation point. The paved stone beneath her was clear of any trace of either Daveth or Jory.

"What happened to their bodies?" She directed this to Alistair.

The man winced. "I took their bodies to be buried outside of the camp. I'm sorry…it isn't ever easy to lose someone to the Joining."

Kallian looked out over the battlements. She would not claim to be totally unaffected by their deaths. Though they hadn't been close, the men had been with her during a pivotal moment in her life. It was a damn shame that they had died in such an unsuitable way.

However, that was in the past, and Kallian had enough baggage as it was. She couldn't afford to lose any sleep over two dead shems.

When she turned back, her face was blank and her voice was steady. Let them think of her as cold if they wished.

"What's next?"

It was Duncan who responded. "You and I were requested to attend the King at his strategy meeting. I would imagine that your role will be a mostly cosmetic one. Still, having more Wardens in the King's presence may lend us some extra influence."

He smiled at her. "Take fifteen minutes to get your bearings, and then come find me at the western chapel."

She was slightly surprised at his comment about attaining influence with the King. From what she had gathered on the trip from Denerim, the Grey Wardens were a neutral faction by necessity. He had explained that they must have a positive relationship with all governments in order to better perform their duty. Yet, it seemed Duncan was not above playing the political game if it suited the Order's interests.

"By the way," Alistair had come up behind her. "A rather eccentric fellow from the kennels was asking to see you earlier. Something about dog flowers…?"

Kallian colored at that; she had been careful to hide her flower gathering activities while in the wild. It wasn't that she cared what he thought, but enough people already believed that elves spent all their time prancing about communing with nature.

"Erm…thanks I'll be sure and check to see what that's about."

Bobbing her head at him, Kallian made as if to leave. Hopefully, she would have time to grab some food before having to go to the assuredly boring strategy meeting.

"Also, I have this for you." Alistair caught her arm and pressed something cold and hard into her hand. "It contains a portion of the Darkspawn blood we used in the Joining. It's given to all Wardens as a way to remember the brothers and sisters we lost in the ritual."

He gave her a significant look. "We call it the Warden's Oath. Most of us choose to wear it at all times to signify the burdens we carry."

"O-oh, yeah sure… I'll put it on immediately." Alistair's words carried a gravity that seemed out of place with his usual easy humor.

Patting her hand, Alistair excused himself and moved off in the direction of the main camp. For a long time, Kallian stared at small necklace he had given her. Shaped like a teardrop, the delicate silver vial seemed heavier than it had a right to be.

A pang of some indefinable emotion struck as she held it. For the first time, she felt as though she belonged to something that was bigger than her.

Shaking herself, Kallian slipped the chain around her neck and fastened it. She would have to move quickly if she didn't want to keep Duncan waiting.

…_Just two dead shems._

xxXxx

By the light of many fires, the camp at Ostagar prepared for war.

Soldiers sat outside their billets sharpening weapons or adjusting gear. A few had decided to catch a few moments sleep or a quick meal before they were called to their stations. Most took a moment to whisper a prayer to the Maker, or engage in some superstition for luck. It reminded her of something her old Chantry instructor had once said: there were no atheists in a shield wall.

Kallian smirked as she watched the blacksmith try to deal with a myriad of last minute alterations. The portly man was still desperately screaming for whichever elf was assigned to ferry his armor about.

The kennel master had been inordinately pleased with the medication she had brought for the sick dog. In gratitude, the man had even offered to help her imprint to the Mabari after the battle was over. From what she could gather, this meant that she would permanently bond with dog as his master. It sounded good to her; she had always gotten along well with the mutts that scavenged in the Alienage.

As she had been walking away, the dog had looked at her piteously until she felt compelled to toss him half of the dried beef she had picked up at the kitchen. His ecstatic bark was infinitely more gratifying than she would have thought.

After a quick stop by the Grey Warden's fire to grab her pack and armor, Kallian double-timed it to the place Duncan had specified. Despite her efforts, she arrived five minutes late, and received a disapproving frown as a result.

"At last, let us hurry to the meeting. We are already keeping the King and the others waiting."

She sheepishly followed him into the crumbling ruins of the old chapel. Ahead of them, a long wooden table had been laid out. The surface of the table was entirely covered with maps and tiny figurines that represented the King's troops. Clustered around in full armor, Cailan and several advisors were engaged in an animated discussion.

As they approached, Cailan lifted his golden head and favored them with a broad grin. It was still difficult to accept that this man held dominion over an entire country.

"Duncan, how good of you to come! I'm quite eager to hear the Grey Warden's opinion on our battle strategy." His gaze fell on Kallian. "Speaking of which, I hear that congratulations are in order. Gentlemen, this young lady became the newest Grey Warden less than an hour ago!"

Five pairs of eyes settled on her. One man with shoulder length black hair and ice-blue eyes outright glared as he stared at her. No one seemed particularly impressed.

"Thank you Majesty." She inclined her head in the direction of the King.

Waving off her thanks, the King threw an arm around Duncan and drew him over to the table. Uncertain of what else to do, she followed them at a safe distance.

The man with the cold eyes leaned forward as they came up to the largest map. "If we may continue your Majesty, I must ask you to reevaluate your course. This plan is as foolish as it is reckless."

Cailan frowned at him. "Take care Loghain, one day you might take one liberty too many with me. Whatever relationship you held with my father does not excuse taking that tone with your king."

For a tense moment, it seemed as though Loghain would elect to take another liberty. Then, the man lowered his head and fixed his eyes on the table's surface.

"My apologies," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "With _respect _Majesty, leaving the defenses of Ostagar to engage the threat is entirely unwise."

"Bah, listening to you, one would think you've lost your nerve Loghain. I would like to think the Hero of River Dane wouldn't shy away from a little engagement." He stabbed a finger at one of the retainers. "Give the Grey Wardens an overview of the battle strategy."

The man coughed and shot a nervous glance over at Loghain. With his grey, functional armor and hawkish features, Loghain looked more like a commander than Cailan could ever hope to.

"Our plan is to deploy the bulk of our forces in the field beyond the keep. Archers and ballista will fire upon the approaching enemy from the walls and towers. Once the Darkspawn are funneled into the killing field, Loghain's troops will flank the enemy and crush them between our forces."

Through all of this, Cailan beamed at Duncan in a manner that reminded Kallian of a child seeking approval from his parent. It was a darkly amusing contrast to Loghain's persistent glower from the other side of the table.

"You see Duncan! The Grey Wardens and my army will be the anvil, and Loghain will be the hammer that strikes against it. We shall dispense with this threat before it even begins."

"An intriguing strategy your Majesty, but I wonder, where is the legion that the Orlesian consul promised us?" Duncan's neutral expression gave no indication of his thoughts on the King's plan.

The retainer cleared his throat. "As of yet, neither the troops, nor word of their arrival has reached us. It would appear that they are waylaid."

"Just as well, Ferelden has no need for Orlesian dogs. Letting a legion of Cavaliers into our borders is tantamount to inviting another conquest." Loghain said venomously.

"Perhaps, but their participation in the engagement is a sign that the two countries are –"

Kallian began to tune out the rest of the conversation. In addition to being tired and hungry, most of what was being said was way over her head. Duncan had been absolutely right, she had no reason to be at this council other than to smile and shake the King's hand.

With nothing better to do, she fished her share of dried beef out of her pack and began to tear into it nosily. Several of the attendants shot her incredulous looks while Loghain cocked a brow when he noticed what she was doing.

No one told her to stop however, and food was infinitely more interesting than polite bickering.

A half an hour later, it seemed that the general consensus of the group was ignored in favor of the King's whims. Despite the respective urgings of both Duncan and Loghain, Cailan would neither wait for the Orlesians, nor remain within Ostagar's defenses.

By the time the King had walked off to address his men, Kallian was more than ready to go find a warm bunk in which to collapse. Unfortunately, Duncan was currently engrossed in an animated conversation with some minor noble. Slumping against a wall, Kallian experimented with sleeping on her feet.

"So, you are the newest of the Wardens. Dare I ask what happened to the other two that were supposed to be initiated?"

Her eyes snapped open at Loghain's comment. The man himself was standing a few feet away with armored forearms crossed. In keeping with his theme, Loghain wore a distinctly unpleasant look on his harsh face.

"I'm told it is to be a secret, sorry to disappoint." Kallian kept her tone cool. Loghain intimidated her, but she'd sooner die than let him know it.

He grunted. "So, of the three hopefuls, only a skinny elf girl with no manners meets the exacting criteria of the Order."

Something of her emotions must have shone on her face, because Loghain regarded her with cold amusement. "Don't take it like that, one of the strongest people I ever knew was a woman. I'd take one of her over ten men in any fight. See to it that you never let anyone tell you what you can or can't do as a result of your race or gender."

Kallian stared at him; the sudden speech had surprised her. Loghain had delivered it with a flat certainty that hinted at sincerity. She couldn't help but compare it favorably to the King's rambling speeches of honor and victory.

"I'll keep that in mind." She tilted her head to the side. "You were very rude to your King, is it not the custom of humans to respect those with power?"

He gave a hard smile. "He's your King as well girl, and he gets the same amount of respect that he deserves. Tell me; are you also eager to rush to your death in some vainglorious notion of heroism?"

"Hmph, I'm told my duty is to fight Darkspawn. That doesn't mean I want to die for some shem in a pretty hat." She shrugged. "I'm all for sticking around in Ostagar; what's the point of a fancy fortress if you're just going to walk out of it?

"Out of the mouth of babes…" Loghain sighed and shook his head. "Prudence is too often treated as cowardice by fools such as Cailan. The man will see his entire army consumed for the sake of his own ego. Maric must be turning in his grave." Running a gauntleted hand down his face, Loghain watched her with his ice-blue eyes.

"Let me ask you this girl: does a man in my position owe his allegiance to his country or to his king?"

Kallian furrowed her brow at the question; philosophy really wasn't one of her strong suits. Still, Loghain was evidently expecting an answer.

"You're asking the wrong person, I don't care a lick about the king, or about Ferelden. The way I see it, neither has been overly kind to me and mine. When I find something worth dying for, I'll consider my loyalties. Until then, I trust Duncan enough to let him pick the battles."

Loghain slowly nodded. "An answer that is as honest as it is concerning. If you have no loyalty to Ferelden, I fear you kill simply because you are told to."

"Isn't that what soldiers do?"

"No, no that is not what soldiers do. If you survive what comes tonight, find me and I tell you what makes a soldier more than a killer. One way or the other, this battle will shape the future of us all."

Inclining his head, Loghain strode off in the same direction that Cailan had taken. As she watched him go, Kallian found herself thinking that Loghain was the type of man she could come to respect. It was often one found that type of integrity in a shem.

Over at the table, Duncan caught her eye and motioned her forward. He smiled as she came closer.

"It's time for you to hear what you and Alistair will be doing during all the excitement."

xxXxx

This was a whole new experience in misery.

Kallian pulled her cloak tighter as another blast of freezing rain lashed against the walls of Ostagar. Utterly soaked, Kallian shivered violently while she huddled next to Alistair under an overhand near the outskirts of camp. The steady downpour had begun just after midnight, and it showed no sign of letting up. To make matters worse, an unnaturally thick fog now choked the air, and made it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.

Off in the distance, a river of torchlight signified the approach of an army of Darkspawn. Kallian shuddered to imagine about how it would be to see those things come charging out of the mist. To think, Alistair was actually whining about being kept out of the battle.

A loud crack of thunder made her flinch and haunch her shoulders. She had been afraid of rainstorms since childhood.

"We should just go now." She could hear the tension in her own voice.

Alistair shook his head. "Duncan said to stay here until the fighting begins in case there is a last minute change of plans. We'll wait until then."

Kallian glared at the cobblestones beneath her feet. There wasn't any reason for her to be here anyway. It wasn't like Alistair needed her to hold his hand while he lit a signal fire.

Duncan was down on the field below with the King and the rest of the Grey Wardens. He had ordered them to light the signal beacon atop the Tower of Ishal. Once lit, Loghain's army would move to flank the Darkspawn. Duncan told her that she and Alistair had been assigned the task on the King's request.

Pushing her wet bangs out of her eyes, Kallian shuddered at she looked at the long line of fire that advanced on Ostagar. This wasn't the overgrown raiding force that Cailan had made it out to be. She truly hoped that the shems knew what they were doing.

A horn sounded from down below. It was thickly muffled by the fog, by the distant sound made her start nonetheless.

"That's the signal to ready arms; if Duncan was going to send a message, it would have came by now." Alistair pushed himself off the wall and hoisted his shield onto his shoulder.

"Finally, let's get out of this rain." She rubbed her frozen limbs to get the blood flowing.

They moved out of their poor shelter and made for the great stone bridge of Ostagar. Easily eight hundred meters in length, the bridge showed the ravages of time in the form of great missing chunks of stone. At several points, giant ballista emplacements were being winded back to support the large arrows they fired.

A little over halfway across, Alistair gripped her arm and pointed down into the mist. "Look, the battle is starting."

She didn't really see how he could possibly know that. All she could see were two rows of torches separated by a sea of murky white. As she watched however, a wave of smaller lights seethed up from the King's army.

_Fire arrows…guess it's really happening._

The Darkspawn torches hurtled towards Ostagar, and the dull roar of battle lifted up to reach them. She tore her eyes away from the scene and tugged her arm out of Alistair's grip.

"C'mon, let's make sure we get there before we need to give the signal."

To Kallian's surprise, gigantic burning rocks began to rise from the Darkspawn line. She had not thought the brute creatures capable of crafting, or manning siege weapons. Alistair also noticed, and quickened his pace a little bit. Not a bad idea considering the bridge was probably the largest target available.

Finally, buffeted by great gusts of wind, they reached the other side of the bridge. Above them, most of the Tower of Ishal had vanished into the swirling mist. For the bedraggled elf, the promise of a warm room and a roof over her head was enough to quicken her steps.

They were still a hundred yards away when the world went mad.

With a thunderous crash, one of the enormous projectiles from the Darkspawn's trebuchets collided with the tower. The ensuing explosion of fragments and dust had Alistair and Kallian diving for cover.

Once, the Tower of Ishal had been the pinnacle of architecture in Ferelden. It was the flagship of the impregnable watch post of Ostagar. The centuries had been unkind to the great spire however; it was no longer capable of weathering a siege.

Upon impact, mortar crumbled into dust, and the ancient wood frame shattered and groaned in a symphony of destruction. Great hunks of beaten stone rained down in the area surrounding the base of the tower. For a long moment, the tower stood still with a great gaping wound in its side. Then, the upper two thirds of the ancient building folded in on itself.

Alistair pulled her to the ground and slammed his shield in front of their heads. The impact of the tower hitting the ground rattled her bones and shook the earth. It was accompanied by the loudest noise she had ever heard in her life. Around her, she felt Alistair's body shudder as flying chunks of debris slammed against his armor and shield.

After an eternity of terrifying noise and motion, the world became still once more. Slowly, Alistair uncurled from above her and straightened up. Rising to her feet, Kallian stood next to him and gaped wordlessly at the carnage.

Where once there had been a tower, there was now a stunted remnant that stood a mere fifty feet off the ground. All around them, large rocks and twisted hunks of building materials littered the courtyard. It had been pure luck that they escaped with their lives.

...

...

"M-Maker…it's gone." Alistair voice was a horrified whisper.

As they watched, a smaller portion of the tower tumbled off to join the calamity below. If anyone survived the collapse, there was no sign. More importantly, without the tower there would be no way to signal Loghain.

Alistair absently wiped a small cut that had opened up on his forehead. He was gazing about with a lost look that wasn't helping anybody.

She whacked his arm sharply; Duncan and the others needed help with or without a tower. "Alright, change of plans, what are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't know…we have to get word to Loghain as soon as possible. Without the fire, he will assume that the King has ordered a tactical retreat."

She frowned. "So how do we do that?"

Alistair smiled grimly. "We take the message ourselves."

With that, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a run. Kallian silently abandoned any remaining hope of ever sleeping again.

"Loghain is only two miles away as the wolf travels," he explained as they moved. "If we reach him fast enough, he will still be able to help Duncan."

It wasn't a great plan, but it was a damn sight better than just standing around wringing their hands. They were moving downhill, and had taken an animal path Alistair had apparently used before. With his long legs, Alistair set a punishing pace that she forced her exhausted body to match. Five minutes later, both of their breaths were coming out in explosive gasps.

"Won't Loghain know to attack once the tower fell?" She panted out as they vaulted over a fallen log.

"He might, but that's only if he knows it fell." Alistair cursed as he stumbled on a loose rock. "The mist and the storm are making it hard to see, and the thunder and battle might have drowned it out. Now save your breath."

It was advice that she was happy to follow. The trail was treacherous in the pouring rain, and Kallian's lungs were burning. How Alistair was keeping up in a full suit of chainmail armor was beyond her.

As they rounded a steep ridge about a mile down the trail, the clamor of the battle became significantly louder. Below them, Loghain's battalion stood in rigid formation. Alistair slowed to a halt and bent over with his hands on his knees. The man was taking huge gasping breaths as he tried to compose himself.

He waved her on. "Loghain will be at…the top of the hill…near the tree line…you go and tell him…I'll catch up." Veins stood out in sharp relief on his forehead as he gestured towards a hill about eight hundred yards away from the soldiers.

Nodding breathlessly, Kallian put on a burst of speed as she sprinted in the direction that he had indicated. By now, her limbs were like jelly and her head felt light and constrained. All she could hope was that she got to Loghain before she collapsed.

To her immense relief, two figures came into view as she crested the small hill that overlooked the battlefield. Loghain was instantly recognizable in his formidable plate, but Kallian didn't know the plain-faced woman beside him. Both looked over in surprise as she came barreling out of the mist. Immediately, the woman stepped in front of Loghain and readied a very menacing sword. Stopping dead in her tracks, Kallian held her hands out to show that she was no threat.

Loghain placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Peace Ser Cauthrien, this elf is a Grey Warden; and from the looks of it, hardly a threat at the moment."

The woman looked no less wary as she slowly sheathed her sword. Kallian drew in a few long breaths as she readied herself to speak.

"The Tower of Ishal has fallen," she watched their eyes widen. "The attack is still going on as planned. Cailan will need your troops immediately."

Loghain opened his mouth and then closed it. For a long moment, he simply watched Kallian's face as she struggled to catch her breath. Then, he turned to the woman at his side.

"Cauthrien, go to the men and tell them to prepare to receive orders." The woman slapped an arm to her breastplate in salute, and jogged off in the direction of the ranks.

Loghain walked over to Kallian and place a firm hand on her shoulder. He gave her sad sort of smile. "You did well to come here; your actions honor the Wardens."

Then he punched her in the stomach.

Reeling, Kallian staggered away from him in surprise. A thousand confused thoughts raced through her head as she clutched her hands to her side. Slowly, an agonizing burning sensation began to spread out from the spot he had struck.

She lifted her hand up from her stomach, it was sticky with blood.

Loghain walked toward her with an impassive look on his face. A wide, bloody dagger gripped loosely in one hand.

"The difference…" his voice was flat and lifeless. "The difference between a killer and a soldier is the amount they are willing to sacrifice for their cause."

He raised the knife and thrust it at her ribs. Desperately, Kallian swung her arm to keep the blow from connecting. She gasped as it glanced off her bracer, and dug deep into her upper arm.

Loghain withdrew the blade and stabbed her in the shoulder. Screaming, Kallian gripped his wrist with both hands and twisted violently.

He cursed as she wrenched his wrist hard enough to force him to drop the knife. Winding back with his free arm, Loghain backhanded her and sent Kallian sprawling in the mud.

She spat out a mouthful of coppery blood as she fumbled for a dagger. A moment later, she cried out in agony as a heavy knee slammed down on her chest. Leaning over her, Loghain wrapped gauntleted hands around her throat and squeezed.

Thrashing about beneath him, Kallian felt her nails break and tear as she scratched at his iron grip.

"I don't just mean dying for a cause either," his voice was still empty. "A soldier is willing to sacrifice his morality and conscience for the sake of a greater ideal."

Tears filled her eyes as she weakly bucked against his overwhelming weight. The world was beginning to grow fuzzy around the edges of her vision.

"Know that I take no pleasure in this. However, I cannot allow Ferelden to suffer under Cailan's incompetence. Likewise, I cannot allow you to divide the country with talk of treason."

Kallian slowly lowered her arms as they grew impossibly heavy. Her body hurt too much to keep fighting. Above her, Loghain's lips still moved, but his words were lost to the rushing in her ears.

Just as Kallian's vision started to go black, a brilliant light like a miniature sun flashed into existence before her. Even in her oxygen-deprived state; the pain of the light stabbed into her brain, and forced her eyes closed.

Abruptly, the crushing grip around her throat eased, and she gulped a ragged breath. Distantly, she heard Loghain issuing a litany of loud curses. Preoccupied with breathing, she didn't react when a strong, thin-fingered hand wrapped around her upper arm.

"Now is not the time for licking your wounds. That little diversion has alerted his entire force, and they will soon be here to finish what he started. I suggest that we be gone by then."

The voice was familiar, and Kallian stumbled as she was dragged to her feet. Cracking her eyes open, she felt a rush of fear as all she saw was darkness.

"I-I can't see." Her voice was a coarse rasp.

"No, and neither can the man who was murdering you. Never fear, your sight will return within an hour or so."

Keeping one hand clutched to her stomach, Kallian was half-dragged, half-carried down the side of the hill. It wasn't long before her legs gave out and she collapsed in a heap.

Crying out as her wounds blazed with pain, she was only dimly aware of an arm sliding under her legs. Her rescuer tittered as she was lifted off the ground.

"'Tis a lucky thing that you are so light, else we would be in something of a predicament."

The archaic speech pattern finally triggered Kallian's memory. Morrigan, the witch from the Wilds, now carried her in her arms.

Utterly drained, Kallian's head lolled about as she tried to focus on the other woman's face. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she deliriously noted that Morrigan was much stronger than she appeared.

xxXxx

"Hold her tight boy. I'm no healer, and this is going to be very unpleasant way of putting her back together."

Cold fingers gripped Kallian's chin and forced her mouth open. Something hard was placed between her teeth; it tasted of leather. Strong arms wrapped around her and squeezed tightly. She groaned in protest as it aggravated her wounds.

"Shhh…Flemeth is going to help you." It was Alistair's voice; she relaxed in his hold.

…

Then the pain started.

An explosion of agony tore through her entire body. It was akin to being burned while icy needles stabbed into her eyes and spine. To say that it was unbearable was to make a gross understatement.

Kallian jerked and seized in Alistair's restrictive hold. She was distantly aware that she was making a horrible keening noise. He was whispering meaningless bits of comfort that barely registered as she writhed.

After a lifetime of torture, the pain finally came to an end.

Shuddering, she slumped against Alistair's breastplate while taking shallow little breaths. Opening her eyes, she was tremendously relieved to find that her blindness had receded. A tired glance revealed an open night sky and dense trees. The damp smell of the Wilds reached her as she closed her eyes once more.

"Maker above, what the hell did you do to her?" Alistair's voice was horrified.

Movement nearby caused Kallian to snap her eyes open. Crouching beside her, Flemeth's heavily lined face stared critically back at her. Then the woman eased the folded leather out of Kallian's mouth.

"I never learned to heal in the traditional sense. All I could do was infuse her body with raw energy and direct it to repair damage. It works just fine, but the body wasn't meant to be used in such a fashion. Unfortunately, the result is overwhelming agony."

"No kidding," Kallian croaked.

Flemeth smiled without humor. "You'll be fine girl. In fact, you probably won't even need to get any sleep tonight. Of course, around sunset tomorrow it will all catch up with you. I don't envy you then."

Groaning, Kallian pushed herself out of Alistair's embrace and into an upright position. It was true; her wounds were closed if not fully healed. In their place, vicious bruising now spread across her shoulder and stomach. Everything ached.

She craned her neck to look at Alistair. "What happened with the battle?"

"After he attacked you, Loghain ordered a retreat and quit the field. Without reinforcements, Cailan and the Wardens couldn't hold." His eyes were bright with unshed tears. "They're dead to the last man."

"Duncan?"

Alistair shook his head and stared at the ground.

A deep pang of sadness coursed through Kallian as she watched him. Losing Duncan hurt far more than she would have thought. In addition to being both strong and capable, the man had been unfailingly decent to her at all times. She knew she wasn't the easiest person in the world to get along with, but he had never voiced a complaint or withheld his aid. He had also been her last remaining link to her mother.

Cautiously, Kallian placed one of her hands on Alistair's. He glanced up at her before taking her hand in a tight grip. For a time, they both sat there in silence. Kallian frowned to herself; she had let the shem get too close in too short a period of time. The uncomfortable truth was she relied on Alistair now. If Loghain had proved anything, it was that shems were not to be relied on.

"How did you find Morrigan after she saved me?"

"I didn't, I was forced to flee into the Wilds when Loghain's men came charging up the hill. After I stumbled around for a bit, Flemeth came out of nowhere and asked if I wanted to save your life. She led me here and healed you in return for a favor."

Kallian cast a glance at where the old woman was humming quietly to herself. "What favor was that?"

"She hasn't specified."

"That's no good." She shook her head. "So the real question is: how the hell do we go about stopping Loghain?"

He looked at her surprised. "I'd have thought you would want to leave the Order now that it is disbanded and outlawed."

"Outlawed?"

He nodded. "Loghain has declared us traitors. He claims that we intentionally prevented the beacon from being lit and thus committed regicide."

"Treacherous shem bastard"

"I agree. As for how we stop him, I think the answer lies in the treaties we recovered from the old outpost. Duncan claimed that they would still be honored despite the amount of time that has passed."

Off in the background, Flemeth made an odd sound that hovered somewhere between a laugh and a scream. Both of them ignored it.

Kallian took a deep breath and winced when her bruises protested. "So, we have to travel all over the country while dodging his troops, convince everyone to help, depose a traitor, and then stop the entire Blight?"

"Pretty much," he shrugged. "Things got bad and things got worse. Now it's all kind of piling on at once."

"Story of my life so far, where are we going first?" She bent her neck from side to side and was rewarded with a satisfying crack.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Not Redcliff, I can't explain, but Loghain is going to assume we will go straight to Redcliff. I'm thinking we divert from the main road and pass through Lothering. It's a small city, and I doubt it will attract much attention."

"Alright it's a plan, when do we leave?"

Flemeth approached with Morrigan closely following behind. The younger witch wore a very displeased look on her pretty face. Flemeth smiled and gave her the answer.

"Immediately..." She shoved Morrigan forward. "Now about that favor of mine..."

...

* * *

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review.

I hope that made Loghain's betrayal a little more personal if a tad less believable.

Still, it's fanfiction for a reason!


	6. Against Pollution

**A/N: **Alright, this chapter has it all: drama, comedy, adventure, violence, beautiful women, strong men, and formulaic trade negotiations that lead toward self-indulgent clothing descriptions. Please enjoy and take the time to review if you like it!

Chapter 6: Against Pollution

Lothering

_I am not so much man as Syndrome; as a voice that bellows in the human heart. I am a rain, I cannot be contained –_ Sir William Galt, _From Hell_

* * *

xXx

Back when she was a kid in the Alienage, one of her mother's friends had once told her that the Maker rewarded a positive attitude with positive results.

To that end, she had entered Ostagar with a relatively positive outlook less than twenty-four hours ago. Since then, she had waded through a swamp, been attacked by monsters, drank poisonous blood, been stabbed by a traitor, and finally tortured back into life by a senile old witch.

Now, she walked down the middle of a rundown road with two shems and a whole mess of bruises. Though the rain had let up hours ago, the morning sun was nowhere near warm enough to have dried her wet leathers. Consequently, her chilled body ached horribly as she slopped along the rough cobblestone path. Only Flemeth's strange magic kept her hungry, and sleep deprived body moving in the right direction.

So as far as Kallian was concerned, the Maker could fuck right off with his rewards and positivity. She was going to be outright unpleasant, and see where that got her.

At her side, the gigantic war dog happily trotted along without a care in the world. Shortly after daybreak, the massive creature had bounded up to them with a Darkspawn's arm clutched between its jaws. It had taken Kallian a moment to realize that it was the same animal she had helped back at Ostagar. Apparently, the dog was fully recovered and willing to maul their enemies in a horrifying fashion. Naturally, she asked if they could keep him.

The "mangy" animal really seemed to bother Morrigan. Kallian suspected that Alistair's enthusiasm for the dog stemmed partly from this.

The witch in question was keeping a pointed distance away from the rest of the group. Since joining their expedition somewhat reluctantly, Morrigan hadn't said much of anything. The few snarky jabs she had thrown at Alistair being the infrequent exception. Kallian smirked as she imagined the stir Morrigan would cause once they entered Lothering. In addition to looking like a Chasind, Morrigan's skimpy clothing of leather and cloth revealed a great deal of appealing skin. She had noticed Alistair's eyes flick towards Morrigan's midriff more than a few times.

A distant clanking of hoofs made all of them tense and place hands on their weapons. Though they had yet to encounter any of Loghain's men, it was almost certain that soldiers searched for them along the highways. The group collectively relaxed when the sound turned out to be a family traveling with oxen.

This wasn't the first group of desperate refugees that they had passed this morning. There were plenty of farmers and stead holders who were forced to flee before the approach of the Blight. Alistair had mentioned that it would only be a matter of weeks before the Darkspawn made their next push into the main body of Ferelden.

Every so often, they encountered dispirited clumps of survivors from the battle. Wounded and weary, the soldiers of the King's army barely spared them a glance as they passed by. The bitter truth was that these men would offer no resistance when the Darkspawn advanced.

Ahead, a crude wooden sign marked the outer limits of the township of Lothering. On either side of the road, verdant farmland was slowly turning brown with the onset of winter. It was just after the harvest, and the fields were stripped barren of produce.

Soon, the highway became a great stone bridge that stretched across the shallow valley. A holdover of the Tevinter Imperium, bridge was one of the last remaining portions of an ancient infrastructure. Off in the distance, the town of Lothering sat in the shadow of the elevated pathway.

Seeing the town filled Kallian with a profound sense of relief and anticipation. Their frenzied flight through the Wilds had left them with little by way of gear or supplies. Even though Lothering was hardly a sprawling metropolis, they should be able to buy whatever they needed from the local merchants. More importantly, entering Lothering meant that Kallian could get a hot meal and something strong to drink.

Stomach growling at the thought, Kallian watched as Alistair stopped and waited for her. The man seemed nervous, justifiably so considering Kallian's mood this morning. After the last time she had snapped at him, Alistair had abandoned his half-hearted attempts at conversation. She had felt slightly bad afterwards…considering the fact that the man was grieving and all.

Still, the world was hard all over; and Kallian was still concerned about how close he had gotten to her. In the course of the day, he had gone from a complete stranger to her only ally in a very unfriendly world. It made her uncomfortable to realize that she now relied so heavily on the man. However friendly and unthreatening he might appear, Alistair was a still a shem. Shems couldn't be trusted.

She had forgotten that with Loghain and earned a dagger in the gut for her mistake.

"So…have you uh, settled on a name for our newest friend? You can't very well expect a Mabari to go around answering to just "Dog" you know." He had injected a note of forced humor into his voice.

Kallian sighed and cast a glance down at the dog beside her. Sensing they were discussing him, the dog glanced back and gave them a happy grin. To be honest, she had been passing the time trying to think up a suitable name. Her initial inclination had been to go with something along the lines of "Fenrir: Destroyer of Worlds" or "Bloodtooth". Good sense and practicality had won out in the end however, and she had come with something a little more fitting.

"I think so; I'm going to call him "The Boss", or just "Boss" for short." She reached down to scratch behind the animal's broad ears.

"Hmmm….it has a certain punch to it. I like it."

"Oh yes, what could be more suitable than naming an animal that eats his own feces "Boss"? 'Tis a ridiculous name for the creature." Morrigan gave the oblivious animal a venomous look. Alistair cocked a brow and bent down to scratch the dog's chin

"No, I take it back, I _love _the name." He gripped the dog's broad head between his hands. "We will have to get him a collar with his name on it! It can be black with little gems that spell out the letters…"

Boss gave a happy bark that brought a faint smile to Kallian's lips. It was nice to know that someone was having a good time despite it all.

Alistair straightened and resumed walking. "Speaking of important acquisitions, we've got quite a bit to pick up in Lothering. We'll need food and medical supplies, but we also have to get tents and other camp necessities. You could probably do with some new armor as well."

At some point between her fight with Loghain and reaching Flemeth, Kallian's heavy leather cuirass had mysteriously disappeared. Though the woman had said nothing to the effect, Kallian suspected that Morrigan had taken it off to make her easier to carry. Even if that was the case, she wouldn't say a word of complaint about it. Morrigan had risked herself and ended up saving Kallian's life without being asked to.

That counted for something…in fact it counted for a whole lot.

Alistair continued. "So I figure we can just pool our money and buy it together. I have four sovereigns and a handful of silver. What about you?"

In truth, Kallian had taken the time in Ostagar to sew her two remaining sovereigns into the lining of her leather pants. She wouldn't be mentioning it however; it was there in case she had to ditch Alistair and Morrigan along the road.

"Fifteen silver and a few coppers" she kept her face blank.

Alistair cast a particularly optimistic look over at Morrigan. The stare she gave him in return invented whole new levels of contempt. Shaking his head, Alistair heaved a dramatic sigh as he juggled his money pouch.

"Right, well I suppose it is traditional for the man to pay and everything." He smirked. "Kallian, you can gather information, and Morrigan can be our liaison with the Templars."

Ahead of them, Boss suddenly froze and issued a deep growl. The reason for his warning was quickly made apparent in the sudden appearance of a dozen armed men. They had been hidden from sight behind transport crates set up on either side of the road. Behind them, a sizable stack of valuables and goods attested to their intentions.

"Lovely, it would appear as though we are to be robbed." Morrigan's tone was equal parts amused and interested.

Kallian frowned as the men spread out to bar their way. These were no disciplined soldiers; their arms and armor were an eclectic mix that showed signs of poor maintenance. One look at their expressions was all she needed to size them up. She had seen the same look of malevolent anticipation on the faces of the guards of Denerim. These men were predators, but they were also cowards and full of themselves.

A skinny man with a goatee hailed them from the back of the group. "Welcome friends! I trust you've been enjoying the privilege of our road?"

Alistair walked up and subtly loosened his sword behind her back. Kallian kept her feet at shoulder's distance and folded her arms. A terrible anger was bubbling up inside of her. After all that had happened recently, she possessed neither the patience nor the inclination to deal with a group of vicious thugs.

She bared her teeth at them in a smile. "It is quite a lovely road indeed, but I wasn't aware that it belonged to anybody save the King."

"Many people have made that same mistake my good lady. Yet, you must know bridges such as these require maintenance from time to time. In order to raise funds for such things, we've instituted a small toll. All we ask is for a humble seventy-five silvers."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the cocky highwayman. A faint humming sound had risen up from somewhere around them. It was probably just some irritating insect that was native to these parts.

Keeping her voice light and carefree, Kallian made a great show of shrugging and looking helpless. "Well that _is _important indeed. Unfortunately, the three of us can't really make a donation at the moment."

Shooting his gang a longsuffering look, the leader of the thugs adopted a pained smile and spread his hand out wide. Apparently, the fools actually thought her little act was genuine. "Well you see my lady, we aren't asking for donations. Rather, we are collecting a mandatory toll. I'm afraid that when people don't pay, we become a little aggressive in our collections." He placed a hand on his sword hilt in case she missed his meaning.

An unpleasant pressure was building between her eyes, and that buzzing noise was growing louder by the moment. She used to get migraines as a child, but they hadn't felt anything like this. It was making her rapidly lose what little tolerance she had held for these shems.

Beside her, she felt Alistair shift his weight as he issued a small sigh. "Look, we don't have that kind of money on us. Why don't we just part ways and forget that this meeting ever happened."

Kallian's chest felt constricted and her head was now rhythmically pulsing with pain. She wondered why no one else was commenting on the loud buzzing. It was like the rest of them couldn't hear it.

"Hmm…that is something of a dilemma. Boys, if the people can't pay, how do you think we should proceed?"

One gigantic man in the back brightened up. "We smash them up boss!"

"Yes…that's err, one possible solution. Anyone else have a more thorough course of action?"

An unpleasant looking man who was fiddling with a wicked looking knife gave a repulsive smirk. "I say we find alternative payment," his gaze flicked from Morrigan to Kallian. "Maybe take the toll out in trade."

This brought forth a round of hearty agreement and catcalls. Kallian brought a hand up to grip her pounding forehead. The shems' jeering laughter mixed unpleasantly with the incessant buzz. She hated these repulsive creatures with every fiber of her being.

The nearest shem reached out a hand as he stepped forward. "C'mon knife-ears, let's see if we can't find a better use for that pretty mouth of yours."

As she stared at him, something inside of Kallian changed. In a sudden rush, all of her pains and aches disappeared as if they were no longer there. Likewise, her churning emotions quieted, to be replaced with an unbearable calm. Like magic, her headache vanished, and the incessant buzz was replaced with beautiful music.

Then the Cold began.

Spreading out from her chest in a slow wave, a feeling of unfathomable Coldness engulfed her body. Where it touched, her limbs became light and flooded with an amazing energy. It obliterated anything that made her Kallian. Her fears, her hopes, her memories, even her own name.

In her place, there was the Cold.

Around her, the wonderful music told her everything she needed to know. It spoke of violence, of anger, of uninhibited destruction. The music whispered her purpose, and she listened.

A million miles away, a base creature moved towards her. Its arms were outstretched as if to encircle and capture her. Deep inside, black amusement swirled up through the layers of Cold. It would have better luck trying to capture the wind.

With a movement as subtle as a breath, she was in front of the creature with a knife in one hand. She swept it deeply across the exposed throat and smiled when the blade rattled against bone. With her free hand, she pushed down on its shoulder to guide it to the ground.

The other humans gaped at her magnificence in stupefied silence. Casting an arm forth, she sent the knife soaring into their midst. In a flash of refracted sunlight, the blade buried itself deep into the chest of one particularly grotesque specimen. Galvanized, the men brandished their simple weapons and charged forth like so many cows to slaughter.

Then, she was among them: a rock diverting a stream of cold iron and rank flesh. All around her, the cattle made their brutish attacks while bleating in their coarse tongue. She drew another dagger off her wrist as the wall of sharp metal bore down on her.

She was a plume of smoke rising through the branches of reaching trees. An oafish man with a cleft lip swung an axe in a wide downward arc. Dancing to one side, she darted low and stabbed him in the groin. Blood billowed out in a frothing torrent as her blade found the pulsing artery in his leg.

Streaking across the cobblestones, she stabbed another in the center his breast. Whirling about, she spun around the dying human and jabbed backwards between his shoulder blades. The man's breath whispered out of ruined lungs as he slumped forward.

If the Cold did not need a heart, why should he?

The music swelled to a crescendo as she turned in the sunlight. Distracted by its majesty, she faltered, and the one of the others caught her knife arm in his grip. Hollering in triumph, he raised a viscous club overhead.

Arching away from the first swing, she gripped his arm with her trapped limb and drew him close. Using the momentum, she drove her knee up into his chest and heard a sharp snap as his floating ribs broke. Gasping, the man lurched back, but kept his dogged grip on her weapon. Forming a blade with her fingers, she jabbed him in the throat repeatedly until she felt the inner walls weaken and collapse. Suddenly limp, he released her arm and slumped to the earth.

Leaving him to smother to death, she sprang forward to meet the next to die. This one tried to keep her away using a great wooden shield. It may have well as tried to dam the ocean.

The fool panicked when she lunged at him. Dodging a sloppy swing of his sword, she gripped the side of his shield and pulled down. Overbalanced, he stumbled to one side. Quickly, she swung her knife in a vicious arch and buried it in the fool's ear. Twisting sharply, she snapped the blade off and watched as he went into convulsions.

A huge bellowing noise made her turn to regard a huge man wielding double-headed hammer. Reaching behind her, she drew the long, curved dagger from its sheath on her back. Simple and untrained, the giant simply swung his hammer in scything arches that she easily avoided. Frustrated, the mountain swung a powerful overhand blow that slammed into the cobblestones of the bridge.

Jumping atop the weapon's dull head, she vaulted into the man and bore him to the ground. With a sharp motion, she planted half of the blade into his throat. Placing a hand on his frozen face, she ripped the blade out and slowly stood.

Around her, the world had become bright and lively. Blissfully, the wonderful music still rang out proudly. Behind her, a human woman raised a stick and sent a blast of ice rocketing towards a man with a bow. As the projectile struck him, the temperature in the surrounding area plummeted several degrees.

She hardly noticed; the Cold was far more intense than some paltry trick.

Flicking her eyes forward, she gazed at a man standing alone and holding a sword. He reeked of sour fear, and she found herself moving towards him gladly. This is the one she had been trying to get to from the very beginning. She didn't know why, but she must have been irritated by him at some point.

The creature tried to speak to her. Even if she could understand him, she wondered what he could possibly say to alter the Cold. When he abandoned the attempt and swung his weapon at her head, she perceived him as though he was underwater. All his movements were sluggish, and she easily passed his guard.

She swiped her blade along his belly and backed away as purple intestine began to spill out of him in greasy ropes. Falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around his stomach, he tried to gather up the particulars of his form. The acrid smell of his bowel's contents wafted up to join the aromas of blood and sweat. When she looked into his glassy eyes, she could read all the pleas and promises that he had tried to convey through language.

She stepped close and ran a hand through his curly hair. Gripping a hank of it, she yanked back violently and stared into his screaming face. The music soared as she raised the knife and brought it down on him again and again. Soon, what she was holding lost any resemblance to the man it once was.

She loosened her grip on its hair, and then tilted her head curiously as the body slumped to one side. Cold all over, she paused as she realized the music had stopped. Without its commands, she didn't know what she should do next.

A hesitant voice sounded behind her. "Kallian…are you alright Kallian?"

She turned and looked at the armored human standing a few feet away. Behind him, the woman with the stick and a large dog watched her warily. For a long time, she simply wondered why the word Kallian seemed so important.

"Do you know who I am Kallian, do you recognize me?" His voice was low and soothing as he walked closer to her. She tried to remember.

"You're…."

…

…

"_Anyone who can do that to a Hurlock belongs right where they are."_

…

…

_Strong arms close around her while she screamed in agony under Flemeth's hand_

…

…

"Alistair…you're…Alistair."

There was a clatter of metal on stone as the knife fell from Kallian's unresisting grasp. Inside of her, the Cold contracted and shrank until only its memory remained. As it drew back, all of the pain and weakness returned in force. Most of all, she felt hollow; as though all of her emotions had been consumed by some great furnace.

She staggered slightly, and Alistair made as if to move towards her. Kallian held up her hand to stop him and moved away. As she did, Kallian noticed that her arms were drenched in blood.

Nearby, the dog padded over and whined when she looked at him. Like her, he was covered in a liberal coating of gore. Curiously, the animal began to lick her hand with its rough tongue. Furrowing her brow at the odd gesture, she watched the dog in puzzlement.

"Kallian…" Alistair paused licked his lips nervously. "Kallian, what exactly happened just now?"

The words were distant and lacked any real meaning. It seemed to her that Alistair's question passed around her and continued off to find a more receptive audience. She lowered her head and gazed down at the mess that covered her body.

"We will have to find somewhere to clean up." Her voice sounded as empty as she felt. "We can't go into Lothering looking like this."

She raised her eyes up to meet Alistair's concerned gaze. "People will think we are psychotic killers."

Behind her, Morrigan began to laugh.

xxXxx

Some twenty minutes later, Kallian became herself again.

With a sudden jolt, she realized she was standing in the middle of a very cold stream. Dressed only in her chest wrappings and smallclothes, she froze in the process of scrubbing her arms with coarse river sand. Forcing herself to keep calm, she slowly looked around as she tried to remember where she was.

It was akin to waking up and trying to recall a nebulous dream. Every time she came close to finding her train of thought, it seemed to slip out of her grasp. The vague events and half-remembered words failed to coalesce into a clear memory.

All she knew at this point was that she apparently had felt the urge to bath. Quickly checking to see that she was indeed clean, Kallian waded over to the bank and stood there shivering. At a lost, she glanced around hopefully for her pack. To her dismay, she could see no sign of any equipment.

"'Tis good to see that you are back among the living at last." Morrigan walked into view from around a small outcropping of rocks.

Tossing Kallian a small bundle of cloth, Morrigan delicately seated herself on a nearby log and watched as she gratefully scramble into the dry clothing. The clothing consisted of a cloth shirt that was dyed maroon, and doeskin trousers. She had never seen either article before, and was pleasantly surprised at both their quality and the fact that they fit fairly well.

"Where did these come from?"

"They were found amongst the stolen goods. 'Twould appear as though our departed friends robbed a clothing merchant before we chanced upon them." She clucked her tongue as she sized Kallian up. "They fit well. I wasn't certain they would when I picked them out."

"Yeah they're great…where's Alistair?" Morrigan's cryptic words weren't helping her fill in the blanks very much.

"Humph, both he and the animal are still collecting what they can from the bridge. Judging from the color his face turned when you started to undress, I thought it best if I brought you the change of clothing."

Kallian's mouth clicked shut as she processed the many possible implications of that final statement. Deciding that she needed answers, she took a seat next to the decidedly amused looking witch.

"So, what's going on Morrigan? Why can't I remember anything about how I got here?" She spoke softly as she looked out over the river.

Beside her, Morrigan shifted to a more comfortable position. "Ah, so you still do not remember your little _episode. _I must say that 'twas one of the more impressive displays I have yet seen."

She glanced sidelong at Kallian. "To be brief, you brutally killed eight men and then stood about like a statue afterwards. You were something a fright to look upon, so you decided to go take a bath in the stream. The rest is largely uninteresting."

Kallian leaned back and quietly absorbed this. She had no recollection of killing anyone, much less an entire group of men. The last thing she could distinctly remember was talking to the bandits on the bridge. After that, everything seemed to be little more than one great blur.

"How long was I like that?"

"If I must hazard a guess, I would say little more than a half-hour all told."

Drawing in a breath, Kallian tightened her hands into fists. "So those men we met on the bridge are dead then?"

"I would say so. You stabbed one of them in the head about…twenty times or so." She gave Kallian a searching look. "Why, do you feel badly for them?"

"Never said that," Kallian forced herself to shrug indifferently. "A man tried to hurt me, so I stabbed him in the face." She turned to meet the witch's stare.

"I would do it again."

Morrigan watched her with an unreadable expression. Then, a sly smile crawled across her lips and she pushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes.

"That's one of the first sensible things I've heard since leaving the Wilds. 'Twas not our fault that the men felt we were easy prey. If it makes it any sweeter, Alistair and I found a number of corpses stashed underneath the bridge. We were not the first to refuse payment."

"I see, thank you Morrigan." She closed her eyes.

For a long time, neither of them said anything to the other. It was Morrigan who broke the silence first.

"I have a wonder if I may, was this the first time this has happened to you? I confess, watching you today piqued my interest. 'Twas quite unlike anything I've ever seen before." Morrigan's voice was free from sarcasm or mockery for once.

Kallian looked over at her. "Just once, right before I joined the Wardens."

Morrigan nodded in satisfaction, but did not choose to pry further. It was just as well, Kallian wouldn't have spoken of that day regardless. Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet and offered a hand to help Morrigan up. The other woman seemed genuinely surprised by the gesture, and looked at her arm for a moment before accepting. Together, they began walking back towards the great bridge.

"I never properly thanked you…for last night I mean." Kallian said this in the nicest tone she could manage. Being indebted to a shem rankled in a way she did not quite like.

"Hmm? Oh, you mean that trifle with the traitor. You hardly need to thank me for that. I have never needed much reason to go around blinding people." She sounded monstrously pleased with herself. "Though I will admit, carrying you to safety did lose its novelty rather quickly. You owe your life to my mother. There was little I could do to stop you from bleeding to death."

Kallian caught Morrigan's arm and brought the woman to a halt. Surprise crossed the witch's pretty face as Kallian locked eyes with her.

"Don't do that." She realized she was glaring, and softened her expression. "We both know I'd be dead if it wasn't for you. I also know that there isn't anything I could say or do to repay that kind of debt. Regardless, I want you to know that I appreciate what you did."

Morrigan was looking at her oddly. After a moment, Kallian realized that the witch was uncertain of how to respond to her gratitude. For all of her wit and talent, Morrigan didn't know how to deal with normal interaction.

"I-I um, yes…you are welcome."

Nodding, Kallian released her arm and resumed walking. Ahead of them, by a great stone ramp that led up to the bridge, Alistair knelt on the grass playing with Boss. As they drew closer, Boss rolled off his back and bounded towards them, barking happily. Smiling slightly, Kallian crouched to accept his enthusiastic greeting. Morrigan made a disgusted noise as the animal pranced around them in excited circles.

Alistair walked over to meet them at a slightly slower pace. Apparently, he had also found a change of clothes in the merchant's stores. The short sleeved shirt exposed his generously muscled arms as he gave them a short wave. She assumed his chainmail was stored with his pack.

"Well, it's nice to see that everyone is happy and back to not-terrifying." He gave Kallian an uncertain grin. "You are feeling better aren't you?"

"Yes, whatever that was, it's over now."

"That's good to hear…I was worried for you after the fight." His cheeks flushed slightly.

Kallian felt an unexpected pang of endearment at his words. Even if he was a shem, everyone liked knowing that someone gave a damn about them.

"Thanks, nice find on the clothes by the way."

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I figured it wasn't stealing if it was already stolen from someone else. I just hope that nobody in Lothering sees us walking around in their merchandise. It might make for some awkward conversations."

She favored him with a crooked grin. "We wouldn't want that…any chance there is any more of it?"

"Sure, it's all over there." He gave her a little smile. "You may have trouble finding anything in child sizes though."

"…Asshole"

xxXxx

Less than an hour later, they walked into the township of Lothering. Being neither a trade center nor particularly long-established, the town was modestly sized. It mostly consisted of small, squat buildings built out of wood and rushes.

In direct contrast to its small size, the town was bursting with people. Everywhere she looked, Kallian saw groups of refugees huddled in alleys or camping in the open air. As they entered, a harried looking Templar had attempted to direct them to a relief area. Politely declining, they had instead forced their way through the bustle of people.

In the courtyard in front of the Chantry, Alistair stopped them and drew out his money pouch. Passing a small handful of coins to both Kallian and Morrigan, he gestured in the general direction of the marketplace. "Right, I'm going to go see about getting us proper accommodations for the road. The two of you should pick up whatever it is you think you need. Let's try to get out of here without being noticed."

Morrigan stared at the metal coins in her hand as though they were virulent plague rats. Curling her lip, she turned on her heel and stalked off without a single word. Alistair followed her progress with narrowed eyes.

"That's it; the Templars are definitely going to be receiving an anonymous tip."

Kallian raised a brow. "The way things look in this town, I doubt they would have the time to shake a finger much less capture an apostate."

"That's probably true…but a man can dream." He gave her his trademark smirk.

"Thanks for the money; I'll find a way to pay you back somehow. Mind taking Boss along with you? A single elf with a Mabari will probably raise a few questions."

"Sure, where should we meet up?"

"I'm going to find some new armor and then something to eat. How about we meet at the inn around midday?"

Alistair nodded in agreement and set off with the dog in tow. Once he was out of sight, she counted the money he had given her. It was a tidy sum, two sovereigns and thirty silver. Combined with the other two sovereigns she had cut from her old pants before consigning them, Kallian could afford what she had in mind.

Stepping back into the bustle of the main street, Kallian felt a comforting sense of familiarity as she was swallowed into the crowd. It was like being back in Denerim in the middle of market day. When she was just one of many, Kallian didn't have to worry about hiding.

The local blacksmith was something of a bust, his few weapons and armor sets were poor examples of the trade. Not surprising really, in a town like this the man probably had more experience shoeing horses than forging blades. In the end, she had asked a friendly looking soldier for a nudge in the right direction. Thanks to his advice, she found herself outside of a small shipping house.

She entered the shop to find it all but deserted. Behind the till, a burly man with a bulbous nose glared at her and placed a cudgel on the counter meaningfully. Apparently, the proprietor wasn't pleased to have an unaccompanied elf roaming about his shop. That didn't keep her from flashing him a too wide smile as she strode up to stand before him.

"I want to look at your armor. I need it to be leather and lighter than what a human would use. Take this for collateral if you're so worried" She flicked one of her sovereigns down on the wood.

The man frowned at her suspiciously and picked up the coin to bite it. Satisfied, he grunted and gestured towards a store room behind him. Walking around the counter, she relaxed only when he put the cudgel back beneath the till. The room behind the bar was stocked with a variety of items that included a fairly respectable amount of armor.

A shipping store was something of an intermediary. Local merchants or tradesmen with excess goods would often sell them to the shipping liaison. Afterwards, the man would use contacts with trade caravans to ship the goods elsewhere for cheap. Upon arrival, they would be sold for a profit. In other words, the shipping store dealt in items that others couldn't find an available market for. As a result, they often had the sort of things that one couldn't find in other places.

She passed on the cuirasses and breastplates, the one she had picked up in Ostagar had made it difficult to bend. At the time it had seemed unimportant, but she had grown to realize that mobility was one of her few saving graces. She turned to the shipping liaison and shrugged her shoulders.

"You don't have anything of interest in here. I could find most of this in any given market in the country." She kept her tone coolly professional. It had worked for hustling vendors in Denerim; it could work for some Lothering middleman.

The man's eyes narrowed and he gave her a more thorough perusal. "I don't have much that will fit an elf girl. What I do have costs extra."

Kallian crossed her arms and cocked a hip. She kept a knowing smile on her face as she stared down the merchant. Shrugging, the man walked over to an armoire and pulled it open. Rustling around a bit, he pulled out a folded bundle of leather. Bringing it over, he flicked it between his fingers to unfold it before her.

"Reinforced leather trail jacket: Nobleman brought it here several months ago. He meant it as a gift for his son's sixteenth birthday, but the kid caught river fever and died. Hardened plates are sown into the lining along the ribs and upper arms. Pair it with a good pair of bracers and pauldrons, and you have yourself some decent protection. It's made out of good cattle leather with a lining of sheepskin that'll keep you plenty warm on the road."

Kallian wanted it so much it hurt. "Well, at least it's halfway interesting. What do you want for it?"

"Sixteen sovereigns"

She laughed. "For that price, I could buy a full set of plate. I might offer a single sovereign at the most."

"This was made by a master workman outside of Redcliff. The only reason I still have it here is because I still think I can get more for it in Denerim. I might knock off a sovereign for a pretty face."

"You're sweet, but we both know that the reason you still have it is because I'm the first person who's even shown interest. Can't be too many mercenaries looking for gear in my size. These pointy ears don't make me an idiot."

His blotchy face reddened and he crossed hairy forearms. "Huh, even if that were true, a man in my position doesn't have to take any crazy offer some elf throws at him."

Kallian rolled a shoulder into a shrug as she felt the soft lining of the armored coat. "Sorry, but I'm just not buying it." She flicked the merchant a lazy grin. "I'm guessing that a man in your position would have to do just that. How long do you have before you have to pull up stakes and flee? I don't imagine you'll find too many buyers before that happens."

The shop keeper was watching her with what he must have thought was a neutral expression. In her experience, the most persuasive arguments involved fear and a faint glimmer of hope. Everyone wanted to make the best out of a bad situation.

She spread her hands wide. "You probably are going to have limited space for goods when you do leave. Better to have my money in your pocket when you go. I'll be generous and offer two sovereigns and a piece of information."

"What kind of information?" He was stroking his stubbly chin.

"The kind that makes you money," she gave him her most charming grin.

For an awful moment, she thought the man wouldn't take the bait. In the end however, curiosity and the promise of cold money won over reluctance.

"Alright elf, but this information better be worth my time or we are going to have to renegotiate." He gripped her hand in a firm handshake.

"Less than an hour ago, my companies and I killed a group of thugs who were robbing travelers. We helped ourselves to some of what they had, but most of it didn't appeal to our interests. You send a runner over there and you'll find some tools, hides, even a few yokes for oxen. You know, the type of thing desperate people pay plenty for on their way out of town."

Other than a raised eyebrow, the man showed no surprise at the statement. He just nodded to her and leaned against the doorframe.

"Sounds good elf, but I'll come find you if it turns out to be false. I like the way you drive a bargain though. Tell you what; another sovereign gets you a nice shoulder pauldron to go along with that jacket."

She smiled. "Throw in a good pair of gloves and we'll talk."

By the time she walked out of his shop and into the street, she had managed to talk the man down to seventy-five silvers for the gloves and pauldron. To her relief, the jacket had fit as though it were made for her. One side of the jacket overlapped the other to fasten tightly across her torso. Atop her right shoulder, the leather dome of the pauldron would ideally give her some extra protection on her knife arm. The gloves just kept her fingers warm.

She paused briefly in front of a cracked mirror that sat outside of a tailor's shop. The clothes looked nice, but she was a bit surprised with the face that stared back at her. Her golden eyes were dulled from lack of sleep, and dark bags hung underneath them. Over the last few weeks, her black hair had grown past her chin. Still damp from her recent bath, it fell around her face in stringy clumps. Despite eating better than she ever had before, it seemed to her that her already sharp features had grown even more pronounced. To her satisfaction, Kallian could no longer see any trace of the weak Alienage girl she had once been.

Still, with her mother's deeply tanned Dalish skin and long, tapered ears, there was little chance anyone would think she was anything but an elf.

Stepping into the tailors, she bought a broad band of dark fabric that she tied around her forehead to push her hair out of her face. It would have to do until she could find someone she would trust to cut it. In a small concession to her new allegiance, she picked up a heavy grey coat with a hood as well.

Feeling warm for the first time in days, Kallian moved through Lothering with a noticeably lighter step. As she passed, most humans slapped a cautionary hand over their purses or pockets. She didn't let it bother her; she probably would've tried to lift their valuables if she thought they had any to speak of.

To be perfectly honest, she would be happy to be moving on from Lothering. The promise of a town had been comforting while on the road, but so far Lothering had more closely resembled a refugee camp. This many frightened people made for the type of atmosphere that Kallian wanted to avoid if possible. Plus, the many soldiers that moved about were beginning to make her nervous.

Pulling the cloak's hood over her head, she crossed over a bridge that spanned a small creek. As she squeezed past a pair of Templars, Kallian hoped Morrigan knew enough to stay away from the Chantry's soldiers. Joking aside, the zealous faction wouldn't hesitate to attack Morrigan if they realized what she was.

Something tugged at her cloak. "'Scuse me ma'am, have you seen my mother?"

Glancing down, Kallian saw that a small human child had taken a firm grasp on her cloak. Bending her knees into a crouch, she firmly extricated the fabric from his grubby fist. The last thing she needed was to become the mark for some urchin gang's pick-pocketing scheme.

"She told me to run when the men came to our house. She said she would be right behind me." The child's eyes were watery with unshed tears and she could hear the worry in his reedy voice.

Sighing deeply, Kallian lowered her hood and knelt down to the boy's eye level. "These men, what did they look like?"

"They was big and scary, with lots of swords. They shouted a whole lot." His lower lip began to tremble.

They were probably a group of opportunistic bandits. Most likely just a couple of thugs who terrorized the isolated farmsteads while the local law enforcement were busy dealing with the refugees. Chances are, the boy's mother was probably already raped, murdered, and robbed.

She pressed a several silver pieces into the boy's hand. "Get yourself a hot meal and then go to the Chantry. They'll look after you until your mother can come to pick you up."

"Thank you ma'am….so um, are you an elf?" He gave her a shy look.

Smiling crookedly, Kallian fingered the point of one of her ears. Apparently, very little could escape this young shem. "Last time I checked. Why do you ask?"

"Father says that elves are lazy and mean; but you're a whole lot nicer than everyone else here. Nobody else even stopped to listen to me."

Hiding her frown, Kallian patted the boy on the head and pushed him off in the direction of the Chantry. Flicking her hood up once more, she made her way towards the town's sole inn. It may have been a waste of money, but Kallian remembered what it was like to lose a mother. It wasn't the kind of pain she would wish on anyone. She wasn't so far gone that she would start taking her anger out on human children.

_Still,_ she reflected as she opened the tavern door. _…even wolves are cute when they're cubs. _

The inn was unsurprisingly packed with people when she entered. Sliding along the wall, she managed to find a small table that was near the fireplace. Removing her cloak and unfastening her new jacket against the welcome heat, she waved a barmaid over and ordered a meal.

As it turned out, the meal that the inn offered was a bland, but filling beef stew. The tavern owner was charging nearly double the going rate, but she had half expected that considering recent circumstances. As she ate, Kallian found her thoughts drifting towards her little "episode" as Morrigan had put it. She had meant what she said to the other woman; she wasn't going to pretend like she was sad that she had killed a bunch of thugs before they could kill her. The inability to remember her actions was troubling, but she didn't see any major problems.

So long as she was killing the right people, why should she complain?

Spooning up the last of the uniformly grey meal, Kallian was too distracted to notice the Sister until she was sitting across from her. Dressed in the rosy robes of the Chantry, the woman slid one of two mugs of ale over to Kallian with a bright smile. Swallowing her mouthful slowly, Kallian lowered her spoon to the bowl and gazed at her unexpected dining companion. In a single word, the woman was beautiful.

Kallian was aware that she was reasonably pretty. In the right circumstances, she could even pull off striking. However, whatever she had going for her paled in comparison to the classic beauty of the Chantry sister. Though it was hard to tell with humans, she would guess that the other woman was around twenty five years of age. With her perfect pale skin and wondrous blue eyes, the woman looked like some of the more sensual depictions of Andraste that Kallian had seen. Her red hair was the color of a rising sun over water, and her delicate features spoke of good humor and a soft nature. Simply put, this was the type of person whole wars could be fought over.

Flicking her eyes down at the mug of ale, Kallian raised a brow as she turned back to the woman. "Look, if this is some kind of new pitch to encourage donations, you're wasting your time Sister. I don't have much and what I do have is staying with me."

The Sister's smile grew wider. "Oh no, please forgive my rudeness. It is nothing like that. I simply wanted the chance to speak with you. My name is Leliana; I am a lay sister of the Chantry here in Lothering."

When she spoke, her words were colored by an unmistakable Orlesian accent. The charming inflection smoothed over vowels and lent a purr to some of the harder consonants. Kallian crossed a leg over her knee and leaned back in her chair.

"A pleasure, you can call me Kallian if you like." She tilted her head and gave Leliana one of her lopsided grins. "I really can't imagine what we'd have to talk about though."

"Oh?" Leliana gave a soft laugh. "I think you may be surprised by how much we have in common."

Kallian arched a brow. "No offense, but I don't particularly like games. Maybe it's different in Lothering, but where I come from; Chantry sisters don't just walk up and talk to people in taverns. Why don't you tell me what this is all about?"

"Well…I suppose I'm here because you are a Grey Warden."

Kallian went still.

Keeping the smile plastered on her face, she slowly slid a hand down her leg. Hidden underneath the table, she carefully drew a thin throwing knife from her boot. If she had to, she'd bury it in the Sister's pretty blue eye.

"A Grey Warden?" she forced her voice to be neutral. "Sorry to say, but you have me mistaken for someone else."

"No, I am quite certain. I would recognize you anywhere."

"I have one of those faces." She tightened her grip on the knife. "Don't really see what a Chantry sister would want with a Grey Warden anyway. Aren't they mostly heroic warrior types?"

Leliana flashed her a sardonic grin.

"Apparently not"

_Well, I guess I walked right into that one._

"Fine, what makes you think I'm a Grey Warden?"

"Well…you may not believe me." The woman began nervously toying with the fabric of her sleeve."

"After what's happened to me over the last few days, I really doubt anything you say could shock me at this point."

Leliana cleared her throat and looked uncomfortable. "Two weeks ago, I received a vision from the Maker. He showed me your face and bade me help you in any way I was able. It was through Him that I learned you were a Warden."

"…"

Kallian blinked.

After a moment's deliberation, she returned the knife to the sheath in her boot. Now that Leliana had turned out to be garden-variety crazy, there probably wasn't any real need to stab her.

…Probably

Biting the side of her lip, she gave a short nod.

"Well, we wouldn't want to go against the Maker's wishes. Thankfully, the best way for you to help me is to stay here and help the refugees." She made as if to rise. "If you'll excuse me Sister, I have important Warden Business elsewhere."

Leliana's hand shot out and caught her wrist. Reflexively trying to yank away, Kallian found the Sister's grip to be surprisingly strong. Not wanting to make a scene, she lowered herself back into the chair. After a pause, Leliana released her grip and fixed her eyes on Kallian's.

"Please Warden, do not dismiss this lightly. I know exactly how it must sound to hear me speak of this. All I can do is assure you that what I say is the honest truth."

"Fair enough, but that doesn't make it any less crazy. Just because you saw something doesn't mean that the Maker sent you a message."

"If the vision was false, how did I know you were a Grey Warden?"

Silence fell as they stared at one another. It was a good point, but Kallian wasn't about to go believing in providence, Most likely, the woman had heard rumors of an elf Warden from Loghain's men and challenged the first elf that wore armor. It wasn't like there were that many of them running around.

"I never said I was a Warden."

Leliana simply ignored that. The human woman fixed her with an unwavering stare. Whatever else she might think; Kallian was now convinced the woman was sincere. The combination of faith and utter certainty seemed to be genuine emotion.

Kallian sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Fine, let's just assume that I am a Grey Warden and that you received a message from the Maker himself. How exactly does a Chantry Sister expect to help me fight against the Blight?"

"I was not always part of the Chantry. In a different life, I learned many skills that would not befit a Sister. I can handle myself in battle, trust me on that." She folded her arms and waited.

Kallian weighed her options. In truth, there were plenty of reasons to accept the Sister's offer, and only a few reasons to refuse it. She would be the first to admit that their little group could use all the help it could get. If Leliana could legitimately help the group, it might be worth it to indulge her fantasy. Furthermore, leaving her in this town ran the risk of her talking about the Wardens who had just passed through. Loghain's soldiers would find that plenty interesting.

She was saved from immediately responding by the welcome sight of Alistair and Boss entering through the front door. As he reached the table, he glanced between the two women.

"You know, I really dread to think of the circumstances that led to you drinking with a Lay Sister." Alistair's voice was dryly amused. "I mean seriously, there's something horrible at work here right?

Kallian took a long sip from the watered-down ale in front of her.

"Alistair, this is Leliana. She'll be coming along with us."

xxXxx

The man in the cage was the biggest Kallian had ever seen.

Even though he was hunched over to accommodate the iron bars that enclosed him, she could see that he would tower above even Alistair. Seemingly oblivious to her proximity to his prison, the man was absorbed with chanting in some foreign tongue. In addition to his bronze skin, the man had bone-white hair despite looking to be in his prime. Unless she was mistaken, this man was one of the Qunari people from the northern isles.

After finding Morrigan and passing along introductions, the group had made for the outskirts of Lothering. Less than a mile outside of the town, they had come across the lonely prison and its sole occupant. After a bit of prompting, Leliana confessed that the man was being held under the orders of the Reverend Mother of Lothering's Chantry. Intrigued despite herself, Kallian had decided to investigate.

Tired of being ignored, Kallian stepped closer and rapped sharply against the iron cage. With startling abruptness, the man's eyelids snapped open to reveal piercing violet irises. Kallian fought the urge to step back from the bars.

"Go away elf, I will say nothing to amuse you." Listening to his voice reminded her of a rockslide she had once heard.

"I can believe that. They tell me you're in here because you murdered a whole bunch of people. Believe me when I say I'm not standing here expecting you to spout limericks."

"Then why are you here?"

She gave him a feral grin. "I'm here because I happen to need the type of man who murders a bunch of people."

"No doubt, but what do you need someone like me for?"

Apparently, this Qunari really like to ask after the specifics. Most people in tiny cages did whatever they could to get on the other side of the bars.

"In case you missed it, a Blight has begun in the Southern Reaches. We intend to stop it any way we can. We could use a strong warrior, and I'm certain you could stand to get out of prison."

"Stop the Blight? You are Grey Wardens then?" He sounded interested for the first time.

She shrugged. "A few of us are Wardens, myself being one. Let me ask you a question now, did you really kill those people?"

"Yes"

Honest and straight to the point; Kallian could respect that. Still, despite the attitude she presented, Kallian was a little leery about joining up with a homicidal giant. It had seemed like a significantly better idea before she had opened her mouth.

"From what I could understand, he was found covered with blood on a nearby farmstead. When asked, he confessed to killing the entire family…with his hands." Leliana had hesitantly approached and was watching the Qunari with an uneasy look. After leaving the tavern, they had briefly stopped by the Chantry to allow her to change into more appropriate travel gear. Exactly where a Chantry Sister had acquired high-quality leather armor and a recurve bow remained something of a mystery.

The Qunari peered at Leliana. "I recall you; you brought me food and water two days ago. For that, I thank you once again."

"Of course, whatever their crime, no one deserves to be caged for the Darkspawn."

Alistair scratched his head. "Maybe, but I'm not entirely sure it is wise to collect _every_ bloodthirsty criminal we encounter. Was there at least a reason why you murdered a farmer?"

"I reacted harshly because I believed they had stolen something of great value. I grew very angry and lost control of myself. By the time I regained my composure; five people lay dead by my hands." His voice was heavy with sorrow.

Alistair's eyebrows rose as he looked over at Kallian. "Maybe the two of you should start a club or something."

Beside her, Kallian could feel Leliana giving her a searching look at Alistair's pithy little comment. Not wanting to get into a discussion about her own little issue, Kallian kept her eyes firmly fixed on the Qunari prisoner. Still, Alistair did have a point: she couldn't really judge him that harshly all things considered.

Really, she could be the one in the cage right now.

The thought shook her more than she was willing to admit. Her early dismissals of what happened on the bridge seemed suddenly foolish. Thugs or not, she had lost control and slaughtered a group of people. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn't too far off from what this man had done. If she had pulled that little stunt in the middle of Lothering…

She shook her head; this was a moral dilemma for another time and place.

"Suppose I let you out of that cage. Would you be willing to help us against the Blight?"

The Qunari fixed her with his unnerving stare. "Fighting a threat such as the Blight would be but the first step towards my redemption. I would travel with you in the hopes of finding absolution."

Alistair moved closer. "That's lovely to hear, but what if you don't find your redemption with us? What will you do then?"

"Then, I will find it myself…or else accept perdition."

Kallian turned to Alistair and gave him a significant look. After a moment of indecision, he gave her a short nod that she took for acceptance. Craning her head over her shoulder, she cocked a brow at Morrigan.

"'Tis unjust to keep such a proud creature in a cage." Morrigan seemed pleased that Kallian had turned to her for advice.

Kallian pointedly did not bother to ask Leliana's opinion on the matter. Even in a team of strangers, the new girl didn't get a vote.

"Well alright then, let's get you out of that cell and into the fight." She gave the giant a smile that was not returned. A long silence fell in the wake of that statement.

Alistair shuffled his feet. "Uhh…so how do we open the door?"

"Well, I know the Reverend Mother has a key to the cell on her person. Perhaps she could be persuaded to release him if we appeal on behalf of the Wardens." Leliana offered in a helpful tone.

"Maybe not, I might have let the dog run a little wild when I popped in to talk with the Templar captain. Some expensive books were lost...guards were called…words were exchanged." Alistair shrugged helplessly.

"Oh, I see…well there are a many members of the Chantry that I am familiar with, I could talk to the them and maybe see if they—"

"Morrigan, just blow the door off," Kallian interrupted before Leliana could go any farther.

Waving her hand and muttering under her breath, Morrigan gestured towards the padlock on the prison's door. In a single instant, the lock froze over in a blast on intense cold. Then, a flash of light from her staff made it explode into several dozen pieces.

Alistair dragged a gauntleted hand over his face with a groan. "Well, that is just spectacular. Now every Templar for miles is going to know that someone is using magic in Lothering."

"You can sense my magic?" Morrigan sounded surprised.

"Of course, you never thought that the "mage-hunters" might be able to sense magic? Every time you cast a spell, you light up like a signal beacon in the Fade. I had to actively work to suppress what you did on the bridge this morning."

A deep voice sounded over Kallian's shoulder. "If that is true, it might be best to move onwards quickly."

She turned and looked up to see the Qunari looming over her. As an elf surrounded by shems, Kallian was more or less used to looking up at people when they talked. However, having someone stand two and a half feet over her head was still somewhat disconcerting. It had a way of making a girl feel insignificant.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan….uh sorry what do we call you?"

"I am Sten."

"A pleasure, I'm Kallian and you can meet the rest later." She quickly motioned them onwards. "Let's leave before the wrong kind of people show up to talk."

xxXxx

They departed shortly after that. The threat of an army of choir boys kept them moving quickly as they crossed the farmlands that surrounded Lothering. Despite the lack of any sign of pursuit, they didn't slow to a more manageable walk until long after they reached the main road. Kallian was in a good enough mood that she smiled at Alistair when he dropped back to talk to her.

"So, we have brand new gear and two recruits. It's really not all that bad for a single afternoon in a small town." His voice sounded light as he walked beside her.

"Yeah, I guess this is what Wardens do right?"

He shrugged. "I don't really know to be honest. Duncan had sort of said that he would tell me more about the functions of the Order after Ostagar." Alistair paused and drew a deep breath. "But I guess he won't be able to do that anymore."

Kallian pursed her lips as he fell silent. She knew that despite everything, Alistair was still going through a grieving period for Duncan. It wouldn't do to have him moping about when they needed to be fully focused on the already insurmountable task ahead of them. She just resented the fact that she was the one who would have to hold his hand through it all.

"Look Alistair I…" She broke off as a vicious pang of nausea stabbed through her stomach. She tasted bile as she came to a halt in the middle of the road. "I…uh…I'm not feeling too good."

A dizzy spell had her clasping her head tightly as Alistair placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. Kallian hadn't felt this sick since she had eaten a bad hunk of pork last year during the spring carnival.

"I think that inn's stew was bad."

Behind her, Morrigan gave a nasty little laugh. "Oh no, I assure you this isn't some ordinary case of food poisoning."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Alistair frowned suspiciously at the witch.

"My mother warned you that her treatment would take its toll by sunset." Morrigan leaned against her staff in the waning sunlight. "I'm afraid this night will be a particularly unpleasant one for you."

She flashed a smile at Alistair.

"Best to get off the road and make camp…things are going to get messy."

xXx

* * *

**A/N: **So quick confession: Depicting Kallian in Boss Mode was one of the more enjoyable things I have ever written. I may just have to find a way to work a blackout murder spree into everything she does from this point forward. Also, I couldn't stop picturing Alistair as Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly so I'm sure a little of that bled in there. That also made me long for my fondest nerd dream: a Bioware character voiced by Nathan Fillion.

I always appreciate reviews. In particular, I'd love to know if I kept Kallian's charecter consistent throughout it all. It's getting hard to write her as so aggressive and distrustful when I love the charecters so very much :(

Now it's off to the airport for me. Thanks for reading!


	7. Strangers

A/N: Ok so this was far and away the most difficult chapter for me to write. I got about 5,000 words in before I realized that what I had written was absolutely psychotic. Seriously, I had a 2,000 word section devoted entirely to Bodahn and Sandal that read like a drug-fueled Abbot and Costello routine with creepy incest overtones. Long story short, I scrapped the whole thing and rewrote it. So enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 7: Strangers

The Imperial Highroad

_The wretched have no friends_-John Dryden

* * *

...

"Actually, it's really either that or we head east until we reach the Brecilian Forest. Though how we are going to find the Dalish escapes me at the moment."

Alistair's traced a single finger across the map that was laid out before the assembled group. It was the night of their fourth day on the trail, and Leliana saw her own exhaustion reflected on the faces of those around the fire. Since leaving Lothering, Alistair had set a grueling pace that left little room for proper rest. Everyone in the party seemed to be feeling the strain of the constant movement through the increasingly difficult terrain.

Well…everyone except Sten of course. Leliana doubted that the giant had ever been tired in his entire life.

Morrigan stirred. "'Twould be better to make contact with the mages of the Circle. Scared mice they may be, but magic will serve us better than the distant possibility of locating the elves. To be perfectly honest, we have no assurance that the Dalish even exist in any helpful number."

Unable to help herself, Leliana shifted her gaze to see how Kallian would react to that. However, the elf had yet to move from her hunched over position on Alistair's right. She neither lifted her eyes from the ground, nor spoke in response to Morrigan's assertion.

"It's a good point." Alistair allowed grudgingly. "I also think we should continue onwards to Lake Calenhad. Personally, I would like the opportunity to speak to the Templar Commander to see what aid the Chantry could provide. Anyone else have an opinion?"

Sten grunted but offered no actual words. Taking that as assent, Alistair cast an uncertain look around the rest of the group. When she met his eyes, Leliana gave him a slight nod that he returned with a smile. Though he was proving to be a sensible and capable leader, Alistair still seemed very uncomfortable with his role. When she had spoken with him a few days prior, Alistair had confided that he had been reluctant to accept leadership of the party.

That said, between the two remaining Wardens in Ferelden, Alistair was far and away the better candidate. Whatever else Kallian's capabilities may be, the hard-eyed elf was definitely not the type to lead men or plan strategy.

Kallian had spent their first night on the trail being pitiable sick as Flemeth's magic worked its way out of her system. Since then, she had been unable to sleep much as she was subject to intense nightmares. Alistair claimed these nightmares were an affliction that all Wardens shared when they were newly joined. According to him, they would become infrequent and significantly milder within a matter of days.

Until then however, it seemed that the abrasive elf would be short-tempered and unpleasant due to a lack of sleep paired with the rigors of their journey.

"It's as good a plan as any." Kallian's raspy voice floated up in the ensuing silence. Her angular features looked drawn and pinched in the flickering light of their fire.

Alistair clapped his hands together and gave a bracing smile. "Alright, well I'm glad that is settled. Dinner should be ready soon, and I would suggest that everyone try to get as much sleep as they possibly can. We are going to leave at first light tomorrow."

The party broke up with a chorus of disinterested groans. Immediately, Morrigan stalked off in the direction of the solitary fire she had built some distance away. For a reason that was not perfectly clear, the witch eschewed the companionship and relative safety of the larger camp. It was just as well really, Morrigan had been very unfriendly every time Leliana had spoken with her.

Groaning as she stretched out her sore shoulder muscles, Leliana got up and walked over to the log that served as her seat in front of the fire. Earlier in the day, she had spotted and then shot a small deer that Sten had graciously skinned while they had a trail lunch. When they made camp in the evening, Alistair had taken the meat and promised to cook a traditional Ferelden dinner.

So it was with some trepidation that Leliana accepted the bowl of uniformly grey sludge that he offered her. Spooning it around without enthusiasm, she started when Kallian collapsed next to her and gestured for a bowl of her own. Without waiting for it to cool, the elf began to shovel the stew into her mouth at an alarming rate.

Lifting up her own spoon, Leliana took a bite to find it tasted better than she would have expected. Feeling oddly self-conscious next to the Warden, Leliana found herself searching for something to say.

"I would have thought you would have been more eager to find the Dalish." She tried to keep her voice casual as she turned to the other woman.

Shooting her a quick glance, Kallian chewed and swallowed her mouthful. "Why…'cause I'm an elf and so are they?"

"Well yes, I would think that you would enjoy the chance to meet more of your people."

Kallian clucked her tongue. "Maybe, except I don't really see the Dalish as my people. The way I see it, I don't know anything about them and they don't know anything about me. So the only things we've got in common are pointy ears and the short end of the stick."

"Oh …I suppose I never thought of it like that." Leliana nervously toyed with her spoon. "But wouldn't you like to at least see how they live? Most of the elves who came to the Chantry spoke of the Dalish with reverence."

"Don't see why. It's not like they're heroes for running away and hiding in a forest. That won't make our people's problems go away." She scoffed. "Anyway, it's not like anything I could have said at the meeting would've mattered much to a group of shems."

Leliana frowned. "You think we would have discounted your opinion because you're an elf?"

"Your words Sister, not mine."

Leliana shook her head and turned back to her meal. Across the fire, Alistair gave her a sympathetic look and shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. She felt frustrated at the unfairness of Kallian's attitude. It wasn't like she had ever chosen to subjugate or suppress the elves of Thedas.

Beside her, Kallian finished her bowl and reached for the ladle of the cooking pot. "It was lucky you were able to get that deer, I was growing tired of salted fish." Kallian lifted a single eyebrow. "Speaking of which, I'm a little curious as to where exactly a Chantry Sister learns to shoot like that. Care to share?"

The question was delivered in a neutral tone that was at odds with the intensity in Kallian's gaze. Unless Leliana was very much mistaken, this was some kind of hidden test. It made her a little wary, but she had suffered interrogation under far worse circumstances.

"As I said before, I learned a great many things before I accepted the Maker's task. Archery was simply one that I excelled at." She smiled broadly at the other woman.

"Is that right?" Kallian chewed her food slowly. "I'm starting to think that it's past time that we had a conversation about this mysterious past of yours."

Alistair stilled and looked over at Kallian with a slight frown. It appeared as though the unspoken agreement to avoid asking about each other's past lives was finally broken. Setting her bowl down, Leliana gave the elf an appraising look as she weighed her options.

Pretty in the way of glittering blades and icy lakes, Kallian stood a good head shorter than Leliana. With her darkly tanned skin and fever-bright eyes, the elf had an eerie quality that reminded Leliana that she wasn't human no matter the similarities between their races. More than anything, the Warden reminded her of the lean wolves that would occasionally stray too close to the borders of Lothering.

"Alright then," Leliana spread her hands as if in supplication. "How much of my life would you like to know?"

"Give me the abridged version."

Keenly aware of Alistair's interested gaze, Leliana paused a moment to gather her scattered memories. "Well, I suppose I can start from the beginning. My mother was a native of Ferelden but moved to Orlais long before I was born. She had connections with the Royal Assembly in Val Royeaux and intended to bring me up as a courtier. Unfortunately, she fell gravely ill and passed away when I was young."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The automatic quality to Kallian's voice offered no real comfort.

"It was a long time ago and I was fortunate enough to be taken in by a kind woman named Lady Cecile. Through her, I was afforded a number of opportunities that would have otherwise been unavailable to me." Leliana gave a small, wistful smile. "I'm embarrassed to say that I spent the better part of my adolescence as little more than a socialite. It was actually rather boring to be perfectly honest."

She broke off as a log in the fire cracked sharply. Kallian was fiddling with one of her daggers in a fashion that was more compulsive than threatening. At some point, Alistair had begun to clean some of the grime off of the metal surface of his shield. He watched the pair of them through hooded eyes.

Leliana took a deep breath. "That all changed when I was sixteen. I met someone at a social gathering who offered me the kind of adventure and excitement that I so dearly wanted. So, I parted ways with Lady Cecile and began to train to be a Bard."

"A bard?" the elf's voice was incredulous. "You mean to tell me that your big secret is that you are a storyteller?"

Leliana shook her head with a smile. "In Orlais, a Bard is not the same as a minstrel. Though a Bard might sing or tell tales, that is not their true function. A Bard gathers information for his or her client and performs the kind of functions that are deemed dishonorable in Orlais. Depending on the assignment, they can easily fill the role of either assassin or saboteur."

Kallian leaned back and cast a glance over at Alistair. The man gave her a small shrug and kept polishing his gear. Leliana kept her expression schooled as a weighty silence fell between the three of them. Eventually, Kallian gave her a sharp smile.

"Alright, but how do you get from being an Orlesian spy to a Chantry Sister for some backwaters town in Ferelden?"

"I grew…disillusioned with the life I had chosen. After a time, it seemed like the only thing I had to look forward to was a violent death. So, I travelled to my mother's native soil and wandered for a while." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Next thing I knew, I found myself in Lothering's Chantry during a particularly difficult time in my life. I found a kind of peace there that was refreshing after the path I had walked in Orlais. It suited me, and I chose to remain in Lothering in service to the Maker."

Leliana finished her story feeling rather discomforted. Though she had avoided some of the more distasteful aspects of her life's story, she had effectively told the two Wardens her most closely guarded secret. Opposite her, Kallian was giving a thoughtful nod.

"I see, thank you for speaking with me about this." The elf looked back down at her meal; apparently finished with the conversation.

Ignoring Alistair's bland smile, Leliana focused her attention on Kallian. She wasn't willing to abandon the first chance she had to get to know the other woman better. If it was at all possible, she intended to find out what she could about the elf. After all, it was her face that the Maker had seen fit to show Leliana in her vision.

"I'm curious Kallian; did you happen to live in one of Ferelden's Alienages?"

Other than a slight stiffening of her shoulders, the elf gave no sign that the question bothered her. "Yes, I'm from the Alienage in Denerim. Why do you want to know?"

"No reason in particular," Leliana gave her a smile. "I have just heard that life is often difficult for elves in such places. Though I have never been to the elvish district in Val Royeaux, it has been said that it is an improvement over those found in Ferelden."

Kallian raised a slim shoulder in a shrug. "It's true that life was often difficult, but there was also joy to be found in the Alienage. I had my family and friends to make it all bearable."

Surprised at how well this was going, Leliana repositioned herself so she did not have to turn her head to look at the elf Warden. "That is good to hear, I would be saddened to learn that things were as bad as they've claimed."

"It's funny that you say that because back in Denerim, everyone used to tell horror stories about how bad things were in Orlais. I remember our Speaker telling us to thank the Maker we didn't have to share our homes with three other families like the elves in Val Royeaux." Kallian's voice held a note of wry amusement that Leliana found promising.

"But that's really the way of things isn't it?" Alistair spoke suddenly. "Everyone wants to believe that they have it better than someone else even when their life's awful. Misery loves company and all that…"

Kallian bobbed her head in agreement and began to spin her knife between her fingers. Near her feet, the great Mabari war hound was making wet, crunching noises as he chewed at something unmentionable he had found.

"If I remember correctly, many of the elves in Orlais lived comfortably as menservants or maids for the upper class." Leliana tried another spoonful of the grey stew.

"Is that right?" Kallian gave her a dubious look.

"Oh yes, elvish servants are highly prized as both tutors and companions. They are famed for being both quick and very clever with their hands. Also, many people find them quite pleasing to look upon."

Kallian stopped spinning the knife and carefully returned it to her sheath. When the elf glanced up at her, she was wearing a too-wide smile that promised trouble.

"That does sound lovely Sister, it's almost like we're like prize-winning pets that someone taught to speak!"

The blood drained out of Leliana's face as she processed the implication behind her comment. When she found her voice, her words came out in a sputter.

"W-What? No! I d-didn't mean it in that—"

"Just think Alistair! If I get tired of the Grey Wardens, I can always take a trip over to Orlais and offer myself up to some nobleman." Kallian's eyes were sharp as she cut Leliana off in midsentence.

Alistair looked profoundly uncomfortable as he cast his eyes downward. "I don't think Leliana was trying to suggest anything about the elves." He spoke quietly.

"Maybe not," Kallian stood and readjusted her cloak over her shoulders. "But that doesn't mean I have to listen to it. I'll take the first watch." She turned and faded into the darkness without looking at either of them.

After she had gone, Leliana stared at her hands and felt her face burn. That stupid little comment had done the exact opposite of what she had hoped to do. Instead of getting the other woman to relax a bit, Leliana had simply offended her. A few years ago, she would never have blundered like that while charming a mark.

"Hey, don't take it so hard." She lifted her eyes to meet Alistair's face. "I've been sticking my foot in my mouth around her nearly constantly. The trick is just to apologize and act like you are too dumb to have known any better."

Leliana gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you, but I still feel terrible. I cannot believe I was so inconsiderate to her feelings."

He shrugged. "If anything you probably made her day. I think it has been a while since anyone has done anything to reinforce her belief that all humans are ignorant savages. Kallian gets a bit testy when we act like decent people."

"Perhaps she has the right to be angry with us." Leliana crossed her arms over her knees. "Who can say what it is like to be in anyone else's shoes?"

"Not me that's for sure. I've only met a few elves before her; and my understanding of women is…mostly theoretical at this point." His cheeks flushed in an endearing fashion as he said this.

She found his words to be oddly comforting. For some reason, it was difficult to stay in a bad mood when Alistair was around. Favoring him with a nice smile, Leliana stood and began to gather some of the soiled dishes from around the fireside. As she helped Alistair clean up the remnants of dinner, she privately wondered about how she would make this right.

xxXxx

In the end, she settled on food.

Using three of the russet apples she had found in their supplies, Leliana had baked a turnover on a flat rock over the fire. Learning to make the simple triangular pastry was one of the few things she remembered doing with her mother. It had been somewhat tricky to replicate the process using what she had around camp, but the turnover had come out nice and brown even if it was rather lumpy.

Cradling her peace offering, she approached the solitary figure seated near the outskirts of camp. Glittering eyes caught the moonlight as Kallian looked up when she drew near. Shuffling her feet awkwardly, Leliana paused a moment before sitting down on the log next to her. After a beat, Leliana quietly cleared her throat.

"What I said back there…my words were careless and clumsily chosen. I wanted to let you know that I am deeply sorry I said them."

Next to her, Kallian began to toy with a knife in that nervous way of hers. "I've had worse said to me before."

"Perhaps, but that neither excuses nor lessens my own actions." Leliana murmured softly.

Kallian made an odd, jerky motion with one of her hands. In the faint moonlight, her facial expression was hidden in deep shadows. "Look, forget about it okay? I know you didn't mean anything by it." Her voice carried a thick note of strain. "The way I reacted was…childish. Sometimes I'm not the easiest kind of person to get along with."

Whatever reaction Leliana had been expecting, it wasn't this. Kallian sounded almost angry as she spoke about herself. It seemed to Leliana that her apology had actually upset the elf more than her earlier comments.

"I would think that all of us are more than a little tense with all that is going on. I'm sure that all of us would have different ways of coping. For some, it might be saying stupid things, and for others it might be lashing out of the stupidity of the former."

"Yeah, maybe" Kallian made a husky sound that might have been a laugh. "Anyway, don't lose any sleep over it."

Feeling as though a weight was lifted from her shoulders, Leliana relaxed considerably. A strangely comfortable silence settled over the two of them as they stared out into the night. Kallian shifted slightly and nudged her with her toe.

"So…uh…what's that you've got there?"

Leliana smiled as she drew back the small cloth that she had wrapped around the pastry. "A turnover, they are popular as a children's treat back in Orlais. Would you like to try some?" Without waiting for an answer, she broke off the lion's share of the turnover and passed it over.

"Thanks."

A cool breeze brought the clean smell of a forest at night to Leliana's nose. Inhaling deeply, she offered a satisfied exclamation. "I love the smell of trees and plants. It saddens me that we will have to wait until spring for everything to bloom."

Kallian loudly swallowed her mouthful. "We didn't have too much of either back in Denerim. It's nice and all, but sometimes I don't like how open it is out here."

"I can understand that to an extent, but I have always loved flowers too much to live in a city without them. When I was young, my mother would help me to make necklaces out of flowers we had picked. Her favorite kind was this type with small, white petals. Unless I am mistaken, people in Ferelden call them Andraste's Grace."

Kallian gave a thoughtful nod. "My mother and I would try to see who could kill more rats by throwing stones at them."

"Ah…well that does sound like fun"

Leliana nibbled on the corner of her dessert as she tried to think of something else to say. A slight rustling in the overgrowth made her reach for her bow. Beside her, Kallian stopped eating and cocked her head to one side. "Don't worry about it; it's just a rabbit."

"Oh, how do you know that?" Leliana slowly withdrew her hand.

Kallian gestured in the general vicinity of her ear. "Better hearing is just one of the many benefits of these babies." She shrugged. "Plus, we can see in the dark."

Leliana's eyes widened. "I had never heard that about elves!"

"Could be because it isn't true."

Shaking her head with a smile on her lips, Leliana settled into a more comfortable position. A little light teasing was several steps in the right direction as far as she was concerned. Kallian finished her snack and stretched her arms over her head.

"Say, weren't you on second watch tonight?"

"Yes I was, but I spoke to Morrigan and she agreed to switch with me." Leliana grimaced as she recalled that conversation. The witch had done so on the condition that she would take Morrigan's next two second shifts. Second shift meant that one had to divide their sleep into two separate blocks with the watch in the middle. It was unpleasant and something most hoped to avoid.

"I'll bet she didn't do it for nothing." Kallian gave a snort and then leaned a little closer. "Out of curiosity, are you planning on finishing that?"

Leliana handed her portion of turnover to the elf with no small amount of sadness. She had been privately planning on finishing it.

Kallian patted her leg "Thanks Sist-…Leliana"

_Ah well, the prices one must pay for friendship_

_

* * *

_So yeah, no Bodahn or Sandal yet...I think I might be permanently turned off of writing them now. Also, I think I've taken the whole food thing far enough. I originally did it because I figured an elf from the alienage would be weird around food. Now though, I'm worried that Kallian has become fixated to a disturbing level. My goal is to tone that down a notch.

Also: **GO DUCKS!**


	8. Intervention

**A/N:** Quick thank you to everyone who took the time to review. I found a number of them extremely helpful as I wrote this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Intervention

The Circle Tower

_Yield not to evils, but attack all the more boldly_-Virgil

* * *

Lake Calenhad glimmered in the silvery moonlight as they approached from the east.

The shoreline of the immense lake was sparsely populated. Aside from the unimpressive tavern, Kallian counted only a small scattering of shacks that looked better suited for storage than for living. Off in the distance, the narrow column of the Circle Tower reached up into heavens. Stark and intimidating, the tower seemed to swallow the surrounding light as she gazed upon it.

Alistair halted on top of a ridge that overlooked the docks below them and waited while the other members of the party flanked around him. In his weathered chainmail armor, Alistair projected a sense of solidity that she found reassuring. Though she was certain that he was still plagued by the loss of the Wardens, Alistair was becoming adept at hiding his insecurities. Not for the first time, Kallian was thankful that he had made it out of Ostagar alive and well.

Shifting her pack so that the straps rested more comfortably on her shoulders, Kallian cast a skeptical glance along the shattered bridge that rose above the lake. Not only were great portions of it missing, but the stone seemed close to crumbling even in the intact sections. Clearly, they would not be reaching the tower on foot.

That meant that the party would have to take one of the comically small boats that bobbed along the sides of the dock. To be perfectly honest, the idea of riding in a boat didn't sit all that well with Kallian. Having never learned to swim, she was leery of being stuck on a flimsy piece of wood in the middle of the vast lake.

"From what I've heard, there is a ferry that takes Templars and guests of the Tower across the lake." Alistair mused quietly as he looked over the water. "I would imagine they could be persuaded to transport Grey Wardens without too much difficulty."

"Maybe, unless they decide to attack us because Loghain's told everyone we're traitors." Kallian muttered darkly.

He shook his head. "The Chantry doesn't choose sides, and the treaty compels the mages regardless of how we are seen by the rest of Ferelden. They won't attack us no matter what Loghain tells them to do."

Kallian mulled this over as the group started down towards the docks. She really didn't have any concept of how the Grey Wardens were seen or treated in the country. Her knowledge of the capabilities and duties of the Order did not extend far beyond the rambling stories told by drunks back in Denerim. Even now that she was part of the Wardens; Kallian was struck by how little she knew about them.

The faint clanking of a staff on rough cobblestones signaled the approach of Morrigan behind her. While most of the party seemed eager to be doing something useful, Morrigan had grow increasingly testy the closer they had gotten to Lake Calenhad. Now, as she walked beside her, Kallian frowned at the distracted look Morrigan was giving the Tower.

"You all right? Now's really not the time to be wool-gathering."

Morrigan jumped slightly and whipped her head around to glare at Kallian. Interestingly enough a myriad of emotions drifted across the witch's normally composed face. "Yes…I'm fine I suppose. Though, I cannot say I am at all pleased to approach this ridiculous prison."

"I'd forgotten you felt so strongly about it. I'm sure that Alistair would be willing to let you stay on this side of the shore if you feel that you are at risk." Kallian kept her tone mild.

"I don't doubt that he would." She sneered at the man's back. "However, 'tis not my own welfare that gives me pause. I simple do not wish to look upon the gilded cage that so many of my kind choose to reside in."

Kallian made a noncommittal sound. "From what I've always heard, the mages have little choice in the matter."

"Patently ridiculous…do you imagine for a moment that the combined might of the mages in that Tower could be contained by the Templars? You've seen what I can do all by my lonesome. Imagine hundreds of men and women with that power all working in concert. 'Twould be little better than a slaughter."

"If that's true, why are the Circle Towers still standing all over Thedas? Seems to me like you magic users are all talk and no action." "

"Fear," Morrigan's eyes blazed as she stared down at Kallian. "These so-called magic users pretend that they enjoy the "privilege" of the Chantry's hospitality. In actuality, they tremble in their robes and pray the Templars won't decide to murder them for sport. If even a few of them had an ounce of courage, they would have shattered the chains that fetter them so."

Kallian grunted. "Maybe, but sometimes it's harder to be brave and rebellious when things have stayed the same for so long. After a while, people just get used to their burdens."

Whatever Morrigan had to say to that would have to wait as they had now reached the small dock that hugged the shoreline. Stepping cautiously on the rickety planks, Alistair lifted a hand to hail the lone Templar that stood near the single ferry. As she looked at the Templar's suspicious face, Kallian had a bad feeling that this wouldn't go well.

"The Tower is closed to all visitors until further notice." The man sounded bored and resentful.

Alistair stepped forward. "I was not aware of that. However, we have a matter of great importance that concerns both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. I'm certain that it supersedes whatever internal problems the Tower is experiencing."

"The Tower is closed to all visitors until further notice." A shit-eating grin wormed its way across his lips as he looked down his nose at them.

Alistair frowned. "We are Grey Wardens and we have a treaty that compels the Tower to give aid against the Blight."

"Oh-ho! Grey Wardens are you? I don't suppose you could prove that?"

"You need proof that we are Grey Wardens?" Alistair seemed nonplussed.

"Yeah! Why don't you just sense some Darkspawn right now? Grey Wardens are supposed to be able to do that right?"

Alistair turned and gave them all a despairing look.

Kallian made an impatient noise. "Fine there are Darkspawn…" she gestured vaguely in the direction they had come from, "…thatta' way."

The Templar narrowed his eyes at her. "Prove it"

"How could I possibly do that?"

"Dunno, guess we'll all just have to stay on this side of the lake until you figure it out." He seemed inordinately pleased with himself.

Irritated, Kallian briefly considered the political ramifications of giving him a small stabbing. Beside her, Sten shifted slightly and gave a low rumble that made the Templar's eyes widen. The man's hand crept towards the hilt of his sword. If he drew it, he'd probably end up dead in seven different ways before he could hit the ground.

"Perhaps you could take my word that these people are who they claim to be." Leliana stepped forward and gave the Templar a radiant smile. Brushing a lock of red hair behind her ear with languid grace, the Bard stepped just a little too close to the man. "I would happily vouch for both their integrity and the importance of their task.

"Er…um…yes that's all and well, but who exactly are you?" The Templar's tried to put a little distance between the two of them.

Leliana gave a short, charming laugh. "I'm a former lay Sister of the Chantry in Lothering. You may call me Leliana if it would please you." Her voice was positively dripping with the silky accent of her homeland.

The man blinked. "My apologies, I'm not used to seeing Sisters wearing ordinary clothing." He cast a scandalously long look along her form-fitting leathers.

She leaned forward and shrugged; a gesture that seemed to magnetically draw the man's eyes to her chest. "As I said, I am no longer a Sister of the cloth. I left to help these good people fight to save Ferelden. This is why we now stand before you today."

Kallian watched the entire thing with a crawling sensation of disgust. It was times like these that left her wondering as to whether or not shems were all that different from animals. Elves were subject to their vices, but she saw not a trace of anything aside from lust in the Templar's eyes. These were supposed to be individuals who were separated from temptation by their faith. They were supposed to be better.

"Well I can't really say no to a Sister can I?" The man was watching Leliana with a complete disregard for the rest of them. "I'm sure the Knight-Commander would be willing to make an exception for you."

"Do you really think so?" Leliana caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm afraid I don't even know how to get to the Tower much less who to talk to."

The Templar smiled enthusiastically. "I could row you across if you would like! If you would allow me to accompany you, I could even provide an introduction to the Knight-Commander."

"Oh, you are such a dear!" Leliana laid a hand on his breastplate in a fashion that was equal parts innocent and provocative. Utterly bamboozled, the man gave her a sort of drunken smile as she delicately trailed the hand away from his chest. Looking over her shoulder, Leliana tossed Kallian a wink and motioned them forward.

The Templar cast a doubtful look over the group as they shuffled a little closer. Though it was clear that he still had his misgivings, Kallian doubted the man was physically capable of saying no to anything Leliana asked at this point.

"Begging your pardon Lady," he spoke to Leliana. "But I do not believe that we will have room for the entire group. I can perhaps fit four at the most."

"I will stay. I have no interest in a house of mages." Sten grumbled and turned back to walk to the shore.

Kallian watched him go with a raised eyebrow and wondering if this was her chance to avoid a boat ride. As her eyes settled on Boss, she realized that she couldn't very well give up her seat to a dog. Kneeling down in front of him, she took the Mabari's great head in both hands.

"Guess that means you are going to be staying here with Sten." She ruffled his ears affectionately. "You probably wouldn't think the Tower was much fun anyway."

Boss gave a piteously whine and butted her shoulder with his head. Throwing out an arm to steady herself, Kallian laughed and dug a hunk of old bread out of her pocket. Tossing it to him, she stood up and dusted her leggings off.

"I'll be fine I promise. You be good for Sten and I'll bring you something expensive to chew on."

Barking happily, Boss galloped after Sten with great, loping strides that shook the entire dock. Turning back to the Templar, she spread her hands out expressively.

"Well, now I count four."

Nodding, the mage-hunter stepped into the small boat and made a big show of helping Leliana board. Neglecting to offer the same courtesy to either Kallian or Morrigan, the man watched as they followed Alistair into the remaining seats. After he's moved up to the bow of the boat, the Templar gripped the oars and began to laboriously row them towards the center island.

Kallian glanced over the side of the boat and felt her stomach drop as she stared into the dark expanse of water. Beside her, Leliana hummed softly to herself as she trailed her hand alongside the boat. Closing her eyes tightly and taking a breath, Kallian faced forward until the feeling of vertigo had passed. Deciding to voice a nagging thought, she leaned over to Leliana and spoke in a pitched whisper.

"So what was the deal with that little act back there?"

Leliana favored her with a cheeky smile in the faint torchlight. "Nothing impressive really, it was little more than a holdover from my time as a Bard. It is rather astonishing what one can accomplish with a few honeyed words no?"

"It was beneath us," Kallian said flatly. "We can't very well go around Ferelden prostrating ourselves in front of everyone who stands in our way."

A crease showed in Leliana's forehead. "Ah forgive my indiscretion; I'm afraid I must revert to what I know. However, I cannot help but notice that we now sit in a boat on the way to the Tower." Kallian could hear a lilt of mockery in her voice.

"We could have just killed him and taken the boat."

Leliana laughed softly. "A far more elegant solution I admit"

Alistair shifted and the displacement of weight caused the boat to lurch sharply. Clutching the side of the boat in a white-knuckled grip, Kallian quietly cursed the idiot who decided to build a tower on an island.

"Cute…but we could do without the theatrics next time." It came out as more of a growl than a sentence.

"As you wish Warden"

The placation made Kallian feel like a petulant child. Clutching her hands between her knees, Kallian stared moodily at the floor of the boat. She had gotten the worse of the exchange and she knew it. Sometimes, it was better just to stay silent than risk digging oneself deeper into a hole.

"Winds picking up, it might get a little choppy." The Templar sounded cheerful as he called this from the front of the boat. He was still casting Leliana the occasional adoring look in between strokes of the oars. A sharp gust caused the boat to gently rock back and forth.

"Spectacular" Kallian muttered.

xxXxx

…

xxXxx

Whatever relief she felt upon returning to dry land evaporated as soon as they passed the great threshold of the Circle Tower.

Despite the soaring enormity of the entrance hall, Kallian had to suppress a surge of claustrophobia when they entered. Everywhere one looked, Templars could be found in various states of injury and panic. Cleary, the situation in the Tower was much worse than any of them had been led to believe.

Nose wrinkling at the sour smells of humans and fear, Kallian followed close behind Alistair as he forced his way through the press of bodies. As they passed by, one of the prone Templars raised a bloody gauntlet and muttered at them in sub-vocal tones. Cringing away from his hand Kallian, gazed around with a profound feeling of dread.

Something terrible had happened here.

Their slow passage through the hall came to an abrupt end as Alistair came to a halt in front of a middle-aged human. Unlike the majority of the Templars, this man disdained the use of a helm and instead went bare-headed. With his salt and pepper hair and wearied face, the Templar seemed like the sort to be burdened with command. His expression as he faced them was not pleased.

"We have guests I see." His voice was strained and disgruntled. "It seems as though I will have to reiterate what I mean by "no visitors" next time I speak to the lakeside watch."

Alistair rapped his fist against his chest in a practiced salute. "Er…sorry about the unexpected arrival Knight-Commander. My name is Alistair and we serve as representatives of the Grey Wardens."

"Wardens eh? Well if you're here for recruits, I'm afraid you will be disappointed." He released a small sigh and outstretched his arm for Alistair to shake. "My name is Greagoir and I command the Templars of Ferelden's Circle."

Alistair clasped forearms with Greagoir. "I ask your pardon Knight-Commander, but we have a treaty that compels the Circle to aid the Order when there is a Blight on our shores."

"Be that as it may lad, I'm afraid that I am in no position to offer you any aid whatsoever. The Tower has been compromised."

The effect these words had on Alistair were startling. As Kallian watched, the blood drained from his face and he offered a muffled curse under his breath. Feeling that this begged for clarification, Kallian cleared her throat loudly.

"What do you mean by compromised?"

Greagoir gave her a surprised look as if he had not been expecting her to speak. Behind him, a pair of Templars supported another man who looked as though he had been dipped in scalding water.

"I mean that two days ago a cabal of Blood Mages wrested control of the Tower and tore open a portal into the Fade." He grimaced. "Now abominations and demons are walking the halls and killing everything they come across. My men and I were forced to retreat to the entrance hall in order to prevent them from spilling into the outside world."

"What about the mages?" Alistair was rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

"Dead, corrupted, or in hiding. I truly don't know."

Greagoir's voice held a note of remorse that Kallian hadn't expected from the Commander of the Templars. With the heavy lines of stress around his eyes and mouth, he gave the impression of a man brought to the edge of exhaustion by his duty.

She shifted her feet and peered up at Greagoir. "We came here for mages. If there is a chance that there are some alive in the Tower, than I think it would be best if we tried to help them."

"Have you ever seen an abomination girl?" The Knight-Commander watched her through narrowed eyes. "They are embodiments of evil that possess neither mercy nor the capacity for anything other than violence. Whatever is in that Tower has long since lost any resemblance to humanity. I won't sacrifice my men for the sake of your ambitions."

"Oh, because standing around and wringing your hands is definitely going to help." She gave him a nasty smile.

He glared at her. "You speak of things you do not understand elf. We are waiting for the Writ of Annulment to arrive from Denerim. When it does, we shall see about rectifying the situation here."

Kallian's lack of comprehension must have shown on her face because Alistair gave her a pained look and gestured weakly.

"The Writ of Annulment allows the Templars to completely cleanse the Tower. Reinforcements will arrive from Denerim and they will kill every living thing in the Circle." His tone conveyed his own despair at the news.

She frowned as she took that in. It would certainly make recruitment a great deal more difficult if their prospects were all dead or demonic. A faint hiss issued from Morrigan as she gave Greagoir a hateful look. The man frowned at her before his eyes drifted to the staff she tightly gripped with both hands. Kallian could see the wheels working behind the Knight-Commanders eyes as he realized that Morrigan was a mage. Deciding to avoid answering any questions best left unsaid, Kallian gave a theatrical yawn that drew the man's attention back to her.

"Well, why don't you just let us go into the Tower by ourselves then?"

Greagoir's eyes hardened. "Out of the question"

"I wouldn't think so," she shrugged. "Best case scenario is that we find some mages alive and get them out of the Tower unharmed. Even if we do die horrific deaths, you haven't really lost anything have you?"

He watched her silently while stroking his chin. Though he clearly didn't like the idea of doing anything before his precious Writ arrived, Kallian could tell that the idea held appeal for him. Finally, he raised his shoulders and gave them an indifferent look. "If you are really so eager to find your deaths, I won't stop you. Speak to the guard at the door and they'll let you in whenever you wish to enter."

"Thank you Knight-Commander." Alistair sounded properly respectful as he addressed the older man.

"Don't thank me for allowing you to commit suicide lad. I warn you, once you enter the Tower; I won't open those doors unless I'm certain the danger has passed. You may very well be making a one-way trip."

"We are more capable than we look…though that probably isn't saying much." Alistair gave a rueful grin. "I do have a favor to ask you Knight-Commander. I'm trained as a Templar and I was wondering if you could provide some more suitable armor for countering magic."

Surprise flared up on Greagoir's face before he gave a genuine smile. "I must say I was unaware that we had any Brother's in the Warden's ranks. I may have a few spare sets of equipment I can lend you. Come this way."

As Greagoir led Alistair over to a quartermaster set up along the far wall, Kallian shed her pack and took the opportunity stretch her tight muscles. Sliding down to rest her back against a pillar, Kallian watched as Morrigan paced restlessly in front of her. Though she could understand why Morrigan was so upset, she was beginning to grow irritated with the witch's nervousness. It was beginning to make her tense by proxy.

"Do you think this is the best course of action?" Leliana's soft voice sounded above her. Craning her head up, Kallian saw her leaning against the same pillar she occupied. Though the Bard was addressing her, Leliana's eyes were sweeping over the crowd around them.

"You have a better idea Sister?"

Leliana looked down at her and frowned, but said nothing. Kallian closed her eyes and drifted into a kind of half-sleep state while they waited for Alistair. An indeterminable amount of time later, Alistair's voice announced his return. "We should probably get moving, the longer we wait, the harder this is going to be."

Dragging her eyes open, Kallian shook off her drowsiness and hefted herself off of the floor. Alistair held her backpack for her while she slipped the straps over her shoulders. When she turned to face him, Kallian cocked an eyebrow at his new armor. Though not as extreme as the full plate worn by the Templars, his new set was quite a bit heavier. At the center of the breastplate, the flaming sword of Andraste was etched in startling relief.

"It has got traces of lyrium forged into the metal." Alistair smiled at her appraisal. "When you hit it with magic, it sort of grounds the spell and prevents it from doing too much damage. I'm hoping it might give me an edge if we run into a maleficar."

Kallian gave him a wry look. "Wonderful, you can take the lead then."

He grinned and motioned for them to follow him as he made for the true entrance into the Tower. As they approached, the two Templar standing guard lifted the heavy bar off the door and pushed it open. As they passed by, one of the Templars shook his helmeted head as if in disbelief. Kallian's deep sense of foreboding increased tenfold as they crossed into the unknown territory of the Circle Tower. Behind them, the doors swiftly closed, and a muffled bang signified that the bar had been replaced.

For better or for worse, they were exactly where they had intended to be.

Cautiously moving down the hall, Kallian kept her ears pricked for even the slightest sound. Other than the clanking of Alistair's plate however, the Tower seemed utterly still. Ahead of her, Alistair moved to the first door they came across and silently motioned to Leliana. Stepping behind him, the Bard slowly wrapped her fingers around her bowstring and half-drew the arrow. Alistair held up a hand with three fingers extended. Counting down in silence, he swiftly opened the door and stepped back as soon as he reached zero. Leliana darted into the room and fully drew the bowstring as she swept her aim about. After a moment, she gently released the tension on the string and gestured them inside.

The room looked as though a team of Mabari had rampaged within its bounds. Desks were overturned everywhere, and piles of clothes were strewn about at random. Making their way through the chaos, the party remained silent until they were sure that they were alone in the large room.

"This looks like it's some kind of dormitory." Alistair knelt to examine the splintered remnants of a bedframe. "Actually, it kind of reminds me of how my room at the Chantry looked. A little bit cleaner though…"

Kallian absently kicked at a bundle of clothes. "Looks like some kind of fight happened here."

"If that is the case, one cannot help but wonder why there is no trace of blood?" Morrigan murmured softly beside her.

Frowning, Kallian cast another look around the dormitory. Morrigan was completely right, though the room was in shambles, there was no sign that it had seen any violence. In fact, it looked as though someone had simply tossed the place for valuables.

"We should keep moving."

Fifteen minutes later found the group in much the same position. Each room they had found along the corridor had been trashed, but showed no sign of battle. Likewise, they had found no trace of either survivors or abominations. For some reason, that bothered Kallian far more than seeing actual demons would have.

After they rounded a circular bend in the corridor, a faint sound drifted to Kallian's ears. Halting immediately, she held up a clenched fist and slapped a hand on Alistair's shoulders. Three pairs of questioning eyes fell on her, and Kallian belatedly realized that the shems didn't have her sense of hearing. Waving a hand in frustration, she tugged on one of her ears and motioned ahead of them. Understanding flared in Alistair's eyes and he stood aside to let her lead. Reluctantly, Kallian took point and crept along the coldly-lit hallway.

Flexing her wrist to drop a knife from her forearm sheath, Kallian crept forward until she came to a stone archway that divided the corridor from the room ahead. From beyond the portal, the unmistakable sound of muffled conversation echoed faintly against the stone. Glancing back to ensure that the three humans were squared away, Kallian pressed herself against one side of the door way and slowly peered around the corner.

Before snatching her head back, Kallian caught a glimpse of five shapes conversing in hushed voices around the light of a glowing crystal. Holding up the appropriate amount of fingers to let the others know what they faced, Kallian took a deep breath and nodded at Alistair. He nodded back and in a surprisingly unified motion, the four of them rushed into the room and fanned out rapidly.

Taken by complete surprise, the occupants of the room stumbled to their feet and reached for their discarded staves. Kallian came up short as she realized that at least some of the people in the room were children. Pushing aside the others, an elderly human woman advanced towards them and raised her staff in a threating manner.

"Stay back! Don't take one more step!" Her voice was surprisingly stern and unafraid as she faced a heavily armed group of warriors.

Alistair glanced at the children huddled in the corner and sheathed his sword slowly. Holding his hands up in a nonthreatening gesture, he slowly moved forward with a slight smile. "Easy now, we don't want to hurt anyone. We are here to help."

She glared at him and the light on her staff glowed brighter. "The Templars sealed the door and refused to open it for anyone. I know Greagoir…and that man would not allow anyone to enter the Tower unless he was prepared to deal with whatever is inside. Come any closer and you will not enjoy the consequences."

Alistair came to an abrupt halt and cast an anxious look at the party over his shoulder. Returning her knife to its sheath, Kallian gestured for Morrigan and Leliana to lower their weapons. The movement caused the woman's wary gaze to snap to her face. The mage squinted at her before dropping her staff slightly. "You look very familiar."

"Sorry, but unless you spent time in the back alleys of Denerim, I doubt we've ever met." Kallian gave the woman her best "trust me" face.

"No…no I do know who you are. I saw you at the King's camp back in Ostagar." Her lined face suddenly sharpened. "You were unspeakably rude to me for no reason."

Alistair made an odd, snorting sound. "Yeepppp….the two of you have met."

Giving him a dark look, Kallian turned back to the mage. "Sorry, but I don't really remember you. It's certainly possible though, I was in the camp as a recruit for the Grey Wardens."

Shaking her head, the woman finally lowered her staff and relaxed. The tension in the room evaporated as the other two mages followed suit. Cautiously, the party moved forward to stand at an awkward distance away from the magic users. Both sides watched each other without any great measure of trust.

"I suppose we should have a proper introduction this time around. My name is Wynne and I am a Senior Enchanter in the Circle." The older woman gave Kallian a wan smile.

"Kallian Tabris; and that is Alistair." She jerked a thumb in his direction.

Wynne nodded and stepped close enough to give Kallian a clear view of her features. Well along in years, Wynne had grey hair but surprisingly youthful blue eyes. Her face was weathered by age, but it gave the clear impression that she was once an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Though Kallian had never met either of her grandmothers, she had an odd feeling that they would look something like Wynne. The silence held for a moment before Alistair broke it.

"Greagoir has sent for the Writ of Conscription." He gave the mages a significant look.

One of the other mages gave a moan of anguish and visibly slumped against the man next to her. The male mage wrapped a supporting arm around her, but Kallian could see the despair in his eyes. For her part, Wynne simple looked resigned. "I see, well that is no less than I had expected. However, it will still be a while before the Writ can arrive from Denerim."

Alistair nodded. "And we intend to make use of however much time we have left. It would be helpful if you could tell us anything you know about what is happening here."

"In that regard you will find me quite useless. The demons just suddenly appeared and began killing or capturing everyone. We fled down here, and I sealed us away from the rest of the Tower in order to protect the children."

Wynne gestured behind her at a door that Kallian abruptly realized was glowing blue. Why exactly blue light repelled demons was beyond her understanding. Still, if the magic user said that it worked, she'd believe her. "What about the rest of the Tower?"

"The majority of them sealed themselves in the storerooms long before we got down here." She pointed in the direction of a staircase that led downwards. "They will be forced to remain there until the Knight-Commander personally dispels the ward. It was meant to provide safe haven in the event of an attack."

Morrigan scoffed and turned away in contempt. It seemed as though something about that statement displeased her. At some point in the conversation, Leliana had set down her bow and was quietly talking to the children in the corner. With some surprise, Kallian noticed that they were both smiling at the Bard.

Wynne continued. "If we find the First Enchanter, we could likely convince Greagoir to open the doors and get everyone out."

"How do you even know that he is still alive?" Kallian was too impatient to be tactful.

"I don't," Wynne's eyebrows drew together. "But Irving is a very talented mage and I would think that he would be very difficult to dispose of. Besides, he may very well be the only one whom Greagoir trusts in this entire Tower. If we don't find him, I fear we will all be awaiting the Writ of Annulment."

A peal of laughter came from the corner where Leliana had stooped to speak with the children. Whatever she was saying to the kids, it appeared as though they were finding comfort in it. Alistair gave a kind of helpless shrug.

"Alright, I suppose that we are going to have to find this First Enchanter." He glanced hopefully at Wynne. "I don't suppose you could tell us where to start looking for him?"

She smiled. "I'll do you one better Alistair; I'll come along with you."

"No sodding way." Kallian jutted her chin out. Behind her, Morrigan made a noise of approval. "The last thing we need right now is some long-in-the-tooth biddy who—"

"Kallian BE QUIET!"

Alistair's tone was pure steel as he snapped at her. Surprised, Kallian felt her jaw close with a click. He gave her a long, heated look before turning back to face Wynne. "You'll have to forgive her; she sometimes forgets to treat other people like people."

Angry and embarrassed beyond measure, Kallian kept her mouth shut as she stared daggers at Alistair's back. This was the first time he had ever spoken to her in such a fashion. Wynne looked profoundly uncomfortable.

"Ah…that's quite alright I take no offense." She kept glancing between the two of them.

"Wonderful, we would be more than happy to have you along. It will probably be best if we have someone who knows the layout of the Tower." His tone had shifted back to the congenial tone that Kallian was used to. Clearly left out of this decision, Kallian clenched her fist hard enough that the leather of her glove creaked loudly.

Wynne gave him a small smile. "Thank you Alistair, I will help in whatever way I can."

They moved quickly after that. Leliana abandoned her vocation as a children's entertainer long enough to help Wynne gather a few satchels that were full of various poultices and potions. As they prepared to leave, the older mage turned to the two others who would be remaining with the children. "Solona, Ellis, I need the two of you to remain here and watch over the little ones. We will do our best to ensure that nothing gets by, but you must remain vigilant."

The two mages both nodded with ill-concealed fear. It was apparent that neither one of them relished the prospect of her leaving. Regardless, neither said anything as the party turned and moved toward the glowing blue door. As they reached the portal, Wynne raised a hand and patted the wood of the door fondly.

"It is perhaps the strongest ward I have ever cast." She sounded like she was talking about a favorite grandchild. "Frankly, I'm surprised that I kept it going as long as I did."

"We are all terribly impressed. Get rid of it." Kallian let ice creep into her tone.

Wynne gave her an indecipherable look and waved a hand in front of the door. Where her fingers passed, the air seemed to ripple and bend in glassy waves. Like mist dispersing from a lake bed, the blue light drifted away and faded into nothingness. Gently, Alistair pushed the door and it swung open with a disconcerting creak.

"Be ready," Wynne's voice was firm.

The room they entered was far and away the largest Kallian had seen. Three buildings the size of the Arl of Denerim's Estate could have fit within the stone walls and high, vaulted ceiling. Everywhere she looked, Kallian's vision was impeded by high stacks of books that towered above them like musty sentinels. Cumulatively, the effect was rather similar to being trapped in a cave with a maze at its center. It wouldn't surprise her to learn that the library of the Circle Tower held more books than any other location in Ferelden. As for demons however…

Kallian looked back at Wynne and cocked a brow. "Yeah, it sure was a wonder that you were able to hold back the relentless advance of literature."

Alistair sighed and pushed past her while shaking his head. Wynne's lips were drawn into a hard line as she swept the light of her staff around the dimly lit library. Twirling a dagger, Kallian followed Morrigan as the witch stalked eagerly over to one of the bookcases. Running a finger along the heavy tomes, Morrigan gave Kallian a dreamy look that seemed very out of place on her normally sharp face.

"'Tis quite wonderful is it not? To think, thousands of years' worth of knowledge all kept in a single room. 'Twas a childhood dream of mine to be able to have access to a room such as this." She sighed. "One could spend days in here without noticing the time."

Kallian gave the books a skeptical glance. "I'll have to take your word for it I suppose. I never learned to read myself."

Morrigan's reared back as if slapped, and then stared at her agog. "You cannot read? How is such a thing possible?"

"Loads of people can't read Morrigan." Kallian gave her an amused look. "Learning a bunch of little scribbles isn't that important when you've got disease and starvation to deal with. Besides, who would've taught me?"

The other woman was still staring at her in utter disbelief. Apparently, it was difficult for her to accept that they weren't all raised by a crazy swamp witch far away from the real world. By now, the rest of the group had drawn close enough to catch the tail end of the conversation. Alistair was giving her a thoughtful look.

"It was my understanding that the Chantry organized a big literacy program for the Alienage about ten years back." He prompted her with the implicit question behind his statement.

"Yeah that's right." She turned back to idly poke at one of the books. "They turned a condemned warehouse into a schoolroom and even rustled up a teacher. From what I heard, he was some important scholar from Rivain who was in Denerim to tutor some of the noblemen. Anyway, he was well-known for his charity and he agreed to teach elf kids for free."

"Then why didn't you take the opportunity to learn from him?" Wynne sounded confused.

"Because he was also well-known for bedding little girls," Kallian turned her head and gave them a lazy smirk. "I wasn't interested in paying that kind of tuition."

Watching the disgust and shock creep into the human's faces made her feel a little warm inside. For whatever reason, she took some perverse pleasure in tracking mud all over their ivory tower. Leliana recovered first.

"Why didn't anyone stop him?" Her blue eyes were wide as she asked.

Kallian blinked, and then waved a hand expressively. "The Chantry didn't know, or else they didn't say anything out of embarrassment. Most of the elves who sent their kids to his school just sorta pretended that it wasn't happening."

Alistair frowned at her. "They knew he was a pedophile and they gave him their kids anyway?"

"A day-laborer or a seamstress makes about seven silvers a month. If you knew how to read or write, you could expect to make close to twelve silvers in a nice store as a clerk. Even a few more if you could speak Orlesian." Kallian shrugged. "That extra money might let a family buy enough wood to keep from freezing to death during the winter. It's like Daveth said: Denerim's a shit place, and sometimes you have to be a shit person to survive."

Uncomfortable looks passed between the three humans while Morrigan yanked books out of the shelf by her feet. After a pause, Alistair cleared his throat and motioned for them to follow him down one of the rows of bookcases. After watching Morrigan stuff the last of her stolen books inside her bag, Kallian followed at a subdued pace.

In retrospect, she regretted telling them about the school. To be honest, she had wanted to make them squirm a little in return for Alistair shutting her down earlier. However, all she had managed to do was remind herself of how thoroughly she did not belong in this group. Street rats from Denerim didn't save the world from armies of monsters; they starved in the gutter until they were beaten to death by a couple of guardsmen. Duncan must have been out of his mind when he recruited her.

As they walked past the endless rows of bookcases, Kallian began to smell something foul on the stuffy air. Not long after that, a scraping sound made her hiss a warning and go into a low crouch. Unable to see in the gloomy darkness, Alistair motioned at Wynne's staff. Muttering a single word, Wynne raised her staff and a brilliant light exploded forth from it.

Before them, a nightmare was revealed.

It was once a man, though of what race was uncertain. Bones jutted out of its form at odd angles as if they had been broken and rapidly rebuilt at random. Its mottled, purple flesh looked like it had been melted and stretched over its bulbous frame. All over its body, Kallian could see chitinous tentacles erupting from beneath its skin. These twined about the monster's head and torso like some kind of bizarre parody of clothing. A single yellow eye glared from the folded skin of its face as it stared at them. Then, raising one gnarled hand, the thing charged at them as while uttering a horrifying groan.

An arrow whistled by her ear to embed itself in the creature's throat. Jerking back, it staggered as it clutched at the wooden shaft. Morrigan chanted to herself as she slowly swirled her hand in front of her. With a crack like wood snapping, a flash of lightning shot out and tore the monster's arm from its shoulder.

Kallian stared at Morrigan with wide eyes. Other than a faint smell of ozone, there remained no trace of the spell the witch had cast. The creature that attacked them writhed about before it levered itself into an odd, seated position. Leliana's second arrow struck it directly in its eye and the thing snapped back and went.

Feeling superfluous, Kallian sheathed the dagger she had unconsciously drawn and edge closer to their fallen assailant. Peering down at its motionless form, she slowly raised her eyes up to stare at Wynne.

"What the fuck is that?"

It was Alistair who answered. "An Abomination: a mage who has been taken over by a demon and corrupted. They are creatures of unconscionable evil and they cannot be helped. We must kill all of them to be safe."

As they stepped around the corpse, Kallian cast the Abomination a lingering look before walking a little closer to Morrigan. If there were more of these things in the Tower, she was going to hang around the person who could shoot lightning.

The door opposite the one they came in was the source of the fetid smell in the air. Wrinkling his nose, Alistair tried to open the lock but was unable to force it open. Giving them a resigned look, he back up and gave the door a tremendous kick. Wood splintered as the door flung open to reveal a much smaller room that was covered in…something.

The walls, floor, and even parts of the ceiling were draped in an orange colored substance that looked suspiciously like flesh. It was rhythmically pulsing as though it had some kind of horrifying heartbeat. But it was the occupants of the room that made Kallian's blood run cold. Their slug-like bodies were composed entirely of liquid magma that glowed red with heat. As she watched, they sprouted arms and discernable heads complete with glowing eyes. One of them screeched in rage and flung itself towards the group at an alarming rate.

As the rest of the group readied themselves for battle, Kallian simply stared at the approaching monstrosities in despair. Sighing deeply, she shifted into a combat-ready stance.

She really didn't belong here.

* * *

As always, you will have my heartfelt gratidtude for any reviews you see fit to give me.

Thanks for reading!


	9. Sleepwalking

A/N: Originally, I had this section of the game slated for two chapters. Then, I didn't really see a good breaking point so I just made it one gigantic chapter. As a result, it's more than a little bloated in my opinion. Anyway, I'm hoping this is the longest chapter I write for this story 'cause it made me sleepy all week.

Chapter 9: Sleepwalking

The Circle Tower- The Fade

_Even where sleep is concerned, too much is a bad thing._- Homer

* * *

"Ok…now I just think that they're trying to one-up themselves."

Morrigan leaned against a mostly clean section of hallway and lifted her eyes to focus on the subject of Alistair's speculation. To no one's surprise, traversing through a demonically tainted magic tower had not been easy. By this point however, the intermittent attacks by demons, abominations, and occasional possessed Templar had become rather routine in so much as such a thing was possible. That being said, it was significantly harder to grow accustomed to the peculiar decorations the demons had erected in their spare time.

Leliana strode up behind him and turned a little green as she looked at the repurposed pillar. "Maker's breath….is that a rib cage in the middle?"

"Several," Kallian glanced up from where she was fiddling with the lock of a treasure chest. "It's hard to tell because they're all mixed up together like that, but you can see where a few of them still have their spines attached. It kinda looks a tree from this angle."

Alistair tapped his chin with two fingers in thought. "That's funny; it just looks like genitals to me…terrifying, terrifying genitals."

Morrigan smirked when Leliana made a rough gagging noise and turned away from the scene before her. Though the totem was by no means a pleasant sight, it was hardly the worst thing she had encountered while studying under her mother's tutelage. It assuredly was not something worth losing one's composure over.

"It may be best if we do not dally for long, Irving's study is not far from here." The faint disapproval in Wynne's voice matched the look in her eyes as she watched Kallian poke at the chest's lock with a dagger. Oblivious, the elf gave a small noise of satisfaction when the lid popped open to reveal several gold pieces. As they had moved through the tower, the dislike between the Wynne and Kallian had grown more and more profound. Though Alistair had clumsily tried to foster peace between the two women, their equally strong personalities had kept them at odds.

Alistair dragged his eyes away from the fetish and gave them all one of his simple-minded smiles. "Hopefully we will be able to find him there. It really is about time we had some form of good luck on this trip."

Pushing off the wall, Morrigan curled a hand around her staff and returned to the entrance to the room. As they did not seem to have any definite destination in mind, the party had been reduced to checking each individual room they came upon. Aside from encountering literally _every _monstrous denizen of the Tower thus far, their search had provided little reward. They had met but a single mage who was not corrupted, and the man had chosen to hide in armoire rather than help them. The experience had done little to alter Morrigan's dim view of the Circle Mages.

As she pushed past, Kallian gave Morrigan a jaunty wink as she stuffed her appropriated money in a small pouch. In direct contrast to the rest of them, her mood had gradually brightened the farther they had travelled into the Tower. The opportunity to loot the many valuables belonging to the mages had left her with an appropriate amount of good cheer. That it also deeply offended Wynne seemed to be a nice bonus for the elf woman.

They filled into the hallway and the group shifted to allow Alistair and Kallian to lead at the front. The elf's keen senses had done wonders to alert them to danger, and Alistair was an effective warrior despite his many other shortcomings. Admittedly, she somewhat resented being pushed to the back to travel with Wynne and the Chantry Sister. It was an efficient way to maximize their potential however, and Morrigan had refrained from raising any protest.

As if she had been summoned, Wynne drew level with Morrigan and delicately cleared her throat. "Morrigan I cannot help but notice that you are…well, an apostate."

Turning to face the older mage, Morrigan narrowed her eyes sharply. Though Wynne had retained her usual polite tone, Morrigan felt the weight of the cunning mind that lurked behind the woman's pleasant demeanor. "And I cannot help but notice that my life is none of your concern. Perhaps 'twould be best if you focused on that which directly concerns you. You might consider for instance, the demonic incursion into this splendid cage of yours. "

"It was not my intention to cause you offense." Wynne continued on breezily. "I was merely expressing my interest in a life outside the scope of what I know. I'm sure you must be somewhat curious about the life of mages in the Circle."

"No, I can assure you that I have little interest in learning about the habits of a few frightened mages. 'Tis akin to asking if a wild animal would like to speak to those found in a travelling zoo." Morrigan smiled as they passed by a ruined chapel dedicated to the Maker. There was always time to appreciate the absence of divine presence in a tragedy.

Wynne gave a dry chuckle. "Is that how you see us? Tell me, have you ever considered the possibility that some of us enjoy being here?"

"I have not."

"Don't you think that is a little closed-minded?"

"You mistake me old woman, 'tis not small-mindedness that prevents me from consideration. Rather, 'tis a cardinal lack of interest that keeps me from speculating about your rationalizations." She colored her tone with as much insolence and contempt as she could muster. The exasperation the spread across the other woman's face was a nice reward for her efforts.

"I can see you do not wish to speak with me, but I would hope that you consider what I have said Morrigan. You may find that you prefer a path that does not lead to constant violence. There is plenty of happiness and fulfillment to be found within the walls of the Tower."

Morrigan sneered in response and quickened her stride to place some distance between her and Wynne. For some unfathomable reason, the very old felt that their obtuse opinions were wise by simple virtue of being very old. It was the type of logical reasoning that made one wonder if there was even a line between senility and commonplace stupidity. Claiming that she needed to consider other options was the type of obvious argument that amounted to little more than a waste of breath. Sometimes, a person didn't need to experience a lifestyle in order to deplore it.

"Wait, is this it?"

The door in which Alistair had stopped in front of did not look markedly different from the countless others they had searched previously. Its only distinguishing feature was a small brass plate imbued with a magical symbol that Morrigan did not recognize. Like a child bored with waiting, Kallian began to idly trace it with one finger as they waited for Wynne and Leliana to catch up to the rest of the group. The older mage gave a small smile as she responded to his question. "Yes and the seal is still in place. If Irving was in here when the attack occurred, there is no way anyone could have reached him without a Senior Enchanter to open the door."

With that, she waved one hand and murmured a quick incantation. In response, the symbol inscribed in the brass plate flared up with a vibrant blue light. Jerking her hand back with a yelp, Kallian shook her fingers wildly and shot Wynne an accusing look. Tilting her head, the mage gave an innocent smile. "Mind the spell's backlash; it can give a nasty sting."

Muttering something unpleasant under her breath, Kallian clenched and unclenched her hand a few times. Leliana came up behind the elf and peered over her shoulder to look admiringly at the seal that still blazed with blue light. Morrigan rolled her eyes; it was painful to see a group of people so impressed by a run-of-the-mill seal lock. No one had showered her with attention when she had briefly turned herself into a grizzly bear early in the day. Now _that _had been something worth gawking over.

"It's probably best if the first thing he sees isn't the Templar's symbol." Alistair mused as they stood in front of the unlocked door. He turned to Kallian and raised a brow. "So how about we do ladies first for this one?"

Shrugging, the elf pushed the door open and began to walk into the room. "Fine, but I hope you know that I will be taking credit for—"

Kallian came to a dead stop several paces into the large study.

The three mages near the far wall of room looked up from the corpse they were in the process of flaying.

"…"

"…"

"…"

Kallian slowly began to back up.

"It's the Templars! Kill them all!" One of the mages raised his staff and pointed in a directly at the elf. With a flash of bright light, Kallian was lifted off her feet and sent flying past Morrigan at a tremendous speed. She slammed into Leliana and both of them went rocketing backwards into the hallway. Reacting with admirable speed, Alistair stepped around the edge of the doorframe and outstretched a hand toward the group of blood mages. With a sickening pang, Morrigan realized he was preparing to use one of his Templar abilities.

Drawing an invisible symbol in the air before him as he advanced, Alistair clenched his hand sharply to form a fist. Morrigan lurched against the closest wall and fought the urge to vomit as the room spun widely. Unable to so much as stand upright, she watched the blood mages retch and stumble as the brunt of the nullification swept over them. Mouth set into a hard line, Wynne pushed past Morrigan without showing any ill-effects of being close to Alistair's talent. The elder woman slid her hand along the stone doorframe while quickly spitting out a spell. Segments of rock detached themselves from the very wall of the room to cover her forearm and hand with a thick glove of stone. Thrusting her arm towards one of the recovering mages, Wynne uttered a single word that sent the rock glove hurtling towards her target. It struck him squarely in the chest, and Morrigan could hear the wet crackle of his ribcage caving in as he crumbled back.

Forcing herself off the wall and into the room, Morrigan was treated to the unpleasant sight of Alistair burying his sword in the face of a blood mage. The ex-Templar's face was a cold mask as he placed a foot on the man's shoulder to yank his blade free. Turning on the last of their foes, Morrigan let the power inside of her expand and flow into her staff. Jutting the staff forward, Morrigan unleashed a focused blast of energy in the hopes of disrupting the mages power. It was a simple attack that any mage should have been able to counter, but the female blood mage had been badly rattled by Alistair's talent. Without her mental shields in place, the blood mage offered no resistance as Morrigan shattered her staff in an explosion of light and shrapnel. The woman fell back screaming as she clutched at her bleeding face. Alistair advanced around the desk and thrust his sword downwards. The screaming stopped.

Morrigan felt her eyes narrow as she looked at the man. "Perhaps a little warning would be appropriate next time you decide to do something like that."

"It was either act quickly or let them cast their spells." He gave her an unapologetic look as he uncorked and drained one of their small vials of lyrium. The magic-infused potion apparently allowed Templars to utilize their talents without suffering from the ill-effects of channeling energy. "You know as well as I do that striking first is the most important thing in a magical fight."

"That does not make it any more pleasant to be around when you do the striking. Some of us find it very inconvenient to have all the magic in a room abruptly sucked away. I cannot even fathom how you pulled off a spell like that so soon after Alistair's little stunt." This last statement was directed at Wynne who was currently occupied with examining the mutilated corpse that lay on the broad oak desk.

"Being around Templars constantly allows you to acclimate to the bleed off of their talents so long as it isn't directed at you." Wynne sounded distracted as she poked at what was left of the face. "Thankfully, I don't think that this is Irving. They must have brought this poor man in here in the hopes that the room would somehow accentuate whatever ritual they were trying to perform. There has been a rumor going around for the past few months that the First Enchanter's room is specially attuned to magic. Completely erroneous of course, but the question remains: how did they get in here without the help of a Senior Enchanter?"

Morrigan smirked at her. "Simple, they didn't."

"If you are suggesting that a Senior Enchanter had something to do with the coup, I can assure you that was not the case. We are even more closely monitored than the regular mages because we occupy a position to do greater damage. Greagoir would have noticed if we had a subversive element in the higher ranks of the Tower."

As she finished speaking, the door creaked open to admit Kallian and Leliana. The Orlesian woman was clutching one hand to her side and appeared to be in the process of catching her breath. Next to her, Kallian was sporting the beginnings of a black eye that made her usual glare all the more unpleasant. "Every time I encounter magic, I swear I hate it just a little bit more."

"If you think that was bad, try being the one catching a flying elf next time around." Leliana's voice was amused despite her labored breathing.

"I can help with that." Wynne moved toward them and laid a hand on Leliana's ribs. Where she touched, a faint blue light spilled out from between her fingers and almost seemed to soak into Leliana's figure. After a few moments, the Bard straightened and took a deep breath with a smile. Morrigan leaned forward slightly as Wynne completed the minor healing. Though she had read extensively about the theoretical application of healing magic, Morrigan had so far been completely incapable of performing the technique. It was aggravating that this old mage was capable of something that she was not.

After she had finished with Leliana, Wynne moved a step closer to Kallian and raised the same hand in tacit offering. Frowning at her with suspicion for a moment, Kallian rubbed her bruised eye and then gave a short jerky nod. She flinched when Wynne touched her cheek but made to move to distance herself from the other woman. With a quick pulse of light, Wynne stepped back and gave the elf a cautious smile. Gingerly poking at her unblemished face, the elf answered it with a nod. Morrigan sighed and shook her head in disappointment. Something told her that this minor favor was the first small step towards incorporating Wynne into their little group. Whatever else one could say about Kallian, the elf was undeniably dedicated to paying her debts.

Morrigan knew that from experience. Though she had not directly acknowledged it after their conversation back in Lothering, Kallian had gone about thanking Morrigan for saving her life in a variety of subtle fashions. It was mostly small things like helping Morrigan gather wood for her private fire, or taking up an extra shift of watch so Morrigan could get some more sleep. Every time she did something like that, the elf stuck around for a few minutes of conversation. At first it had been clipped and awkward, but they had eventually settled on a group of subjects that both were comfortable with. Though she had come to enjoy such interactions, Morrigan did not have the pretext to understand what they indicated. As a whole, it was very difficult to understand how the elf thought.

Unless she was mistaken, healing that black eye probably garnered a few points of goodwill in Kallian's book. If that kept up, it wouldn't be long before the meddlesome old hen was travelling along with them to slay the Darkspawn and extol the merits of slavery. Still, having her around might prove useful if she was willing to impart the knowledge of some of her spells.

Morrigan strolled around the circumference of the room aimlessly as she watched as the others poked around the First Enchanter's office. Though no one had voiced the thought, everyone was clearly hoping to find some sign or message that would reveal the location of their target.

"Alright, unless he is hiding in the cabinets, the First Enchanter isn't here." Alistair's tone was grim as he peered down at what could have been a bloodstain near the expansive bookshelf. Lifting her head from the mess of papers strewn about the desk, Wynne nodded sadly.

"Yes, I'm afraid that he can only be in the highest reaches of the Tower."

In the far corner, Kallian hurriedly lifted a black object out of a large silver chest. Glancing at Wynne's back to make sure she hadn't seen the theft, Kallian stuffed it into her pack with a furtive glance towards Leliana. The Bard frowned but said nothing. Kallian gave her an innocent look and walked over to Alistair. "What do you think the chances are that they keep all the weakest demons in the top floors?"

"Well, unless demons have no concept of dramatic buildup, probably not very good." Alistair mused with a smile. "C'mon, we might as well get to it. There really is no point in delaying the inevitable meeting with the King of Demons or whatnot."

Morrigan rolled her eyes as she followed them out of the room. She truly didn't understand why they insisted on minimizing the importance of everything through their inane banter. This was perhaps another of the personal interactions she did not fully comprehend.

Blissfully, they did not have to go far in order to find the staircase to the upper floors. Though she was hardly overcome with the minor difficulties posed by a demonic incursion, Morrigan was growing exceptionally weary of the sheer amount of walking they were doing in this accursed place. When they had reached the end of their ascent, Morrigan's eyes widened as she took in the appearance of the room from the stairwell. While the tower was liberally covered in the odd organic growth that accompanied a tear in the Fade, this level was positively saturated in the bulbous lichen. Lip curling at the stench of decay that pervaded the air, Morrigan stepped lightly around some of the more unseemly spots of ground.

Ahead of her, Kallian waved a hand to get their attention and sharply pointed to a door in the far corner. Morrigan stared at the door in confusion for a moment before she realized that lamplight was spilling out from the crack beneath the door. As she watched, the light shifted and flickered as something on the other side of the door moved about in the room beyond. Alistair exchanged a few whispered words with the elf before turn about to face the rest of the party.

"We're going in fast, but make sure that whatever is on the other side is unfriendly before you attack." His voice was pitched low enough that it wouldn't carry any farther than a few feet from where they stood. "Be ready for anything."

Kallian placed her shoulder against the solid wood of the door and took the doorknob in one hand. Next to Morrigan, Leliana notched an arrow to her bowstring and took up an archer's stance behind Alistair. Having no weapons to ready, Morrigan took her staff in both hands and mentally cast about for an appropriate spell. She had a rather lovely one that involved a tremendous thunderstorm, but she would probably be expected to exercise restraint.

With a violent jerk, Kallian forced the door open and they spilled into the room with the same quick motions that had served them well so far. A quick glance about revealed the distinctive shape of an abomination standing in the direct center of the circular room. As they entered, it gave them an unhurried glance as it looked up from the motionless form of mage near its feet. Morrigan frowned and looked around the room again for some hidden trap. Abominations generally moved in groups to further their capacity for destruction. This one was….different somehow.

_SLEEP_

The creature's deep voice held an ancient command that refused to be ignored. At the head of the group, Kallian's entire body shuddered before the elf collapsed in a heap. Not soon after, Leliana and Wynne keeled over and fell to the ground. Grunting with strain, Alistair stepped in front of Morrigan and raised one heavy gauntlet as if to ward off the abomination's magic. To her amazement, the crushing pressure of the demonic aura lessened for one blissful moment. Across from them, the abomination tilted its monstrous head.

_YOU MUST BE SO TIRED. WOULDN'T IT BE NICE TO JUST REST AWHILE?_

Alistair shuddered and dropped to one knee as the next blast of archaic magic rammed against him. Morrigan gritted her teeth as she placed both of her hands on the man's head and began to chant to herself with desperate speed. She did not know what they now faced, but she could feel the almost overwhelming age of the thing. If Alistair continued to resist the creature's power, his mind would snap like a tree bent by a violent storm. Completing the spell, she sent a burst of power through her hands and into his skull. Tearing through his weakened mental barriers, she shattered his resistance to the magic and formed a link into his consciousness. As the inexorable pull of the abomination's voice carried them to the stone floor, Morrigan felt herself detach and slip into the Templars mind. Desperate to maintain the contact she had established, she wrapped an arm around his neck as the magic forced her eyes closed.

_THERE NOW, ISN'T THAT BETTER?_

xxXxx

She moaned.

Morrigan cracked her eyes open and immediately shut them as bright sunlight stabbed into her brain. Raising a hand to rub at the splitting agony in her skull, Morrigan took a moment to gather her bearings. She was lying on her back in what felt like a field of crisp grass. Distantly, the pleasant whisper of the wind blended with the mild chirpings of small birds. Rolling onto her stomach, Morrigan pushed herself off the ground far enough to get a knee underneath her. In a motion that took a thousand years, she levered herself to her feet and managed to keep her footing.

Holding up a hand to shade her eyes, Morrigan cautiously opened her eyes a mere fraction of an inch. Blinking in order to adjust to the vibrant sunshine, Morrigan peered around in the hopes of finding her staff. To her immense relief, the solid piece of wood lay in the grass near where she had awakened. As she bent down to pick it up, she felt an intense wave of relief as she planted it in the ground to lean on. It was tangible proof that she was still in control of herself and her choices.

Morrigan smiled as the sweet smell of fresh air drifted towards her nostrils. Though she found the situation itself unpleasant, Morrigan could hardly fault Alistair for his choice in delusions. Around her, a quaint, pastoral landscape stretched out in a lazy sprawl. A deep sense of peace suffused the cool afternoon breeze as it gently tugged at the folds of her clothing. Not too far away, a Tevinter styled stone building rose in delicate arches against the surrounding landscape. Seeing no other point of obvious interest, Morrigan shook off the lingering pain in her head and began to walk in the general direction of the structure. It stood to reason that the Grey Warden would choose to orient himself at a place that stood out from the other elements.

It didn't take long to cross the short distance that separated her from the building. Ascending the staircase that led to the only entrance, Morrigan paused as muffled voices sounded from within the stone architecture. She walked a little farther and passed by a small antechamber and into a far larger room. It took her the barest of moments to realize that she was standing in one of the great chapels that had been built by the Tevinter Imperium to celebrate their own majesty. In the modern age, the majority of these structures had been repurposed as bases and waypoints for various military factions. Strolling along the pews Morrigan narrowed her eyes in anticipation as she approached two figures at the far end of the chamber. Though his back was to her, Morrigan easily recognized Alistair as he held an involved conversation with another man.

Morrigan raised a brow at the garish golden armor that the ex-Templar now wore. The man he spoke with was wearing a much simpler set of armor imbued with the flying griffin emblem of the Grey Wardens. As she drew closer, Alistair stepped away from the other man and made a firm chopping motion with one hand.

"No Duncan, what you are offering now is complacency! You once told me yourself that a Grey Warden must never allow himself to relax." Alistair shook his head and Morrigan could see he was beginning to wrest himself away from the dream. Impressive really, most would never be able to free themselves from their own delusions.

The man he had referred to as Duncan stepped closer with a dark look on his face. "You have forgotten who I am Alistair. If I command you to lay down arms then you will obey!"

In a quick movement, Duncan drew a small dagger and lunged at Alistair with an animalistic hunger. With a distressed exclamation, Alistair unsheathed his sword and parried the wild thrust. Bringing his sword to bear in a trained movement, Alistair slipped past the other man's guard and impaled him with the sharp metal. Coughing once, Duncan staggered back and clutched at his stomach as blood spurted from between his hands. A ragged cry tore its way from Alistair's throat as he dropped his bloodied sword. Turning away from Duncan's corpse, Alistair slumped to the ground and grabbed at his hair with both hands. After a moment, Morrigan noticed his shoulders begin to shake in the tell-tale signs of grief.

The temptation to comment on his weakened state arose in Morrigan like an instinctual response. With a faint feeling of discontent, she suppressed the urge and advanced to stand in front of him. It wouldn't do to mock the man when she would inevitably require his assistance to free herself from the abomination's prison. That didn't stop a tendril of contempt from worming its way through her mind as she watched the man sob to himself.

"While I do hate to interrupt, 'tis best not to linger in the realm of demons." She kept her voice measured but low in order to avoid startling him. Dreamers could sometimes have very unusual and violent reactions to that which they are not suspecting.

Slowly, Alistair lowered his hands from his head and looked up at her with bleary eyes. Morrigan nearly flinched back from the raw pain that she saw in his gaze. Open displays of emotion had a curious way of unsettling her even though she knew it was perfectly natural to have them. In her experience, emotional individuals did not react in the fashion that a rational observer would expect them to. It was a weakness that made them all the more dangerous to be around.

Comprehension dawned on him after a beat. "Morrigan…what are you doing here?"

"I'm saving us all from a slow death at the hands of the demon. Come quickly then, you will have plenty of time to offer thanks once we are free of the Fade." She tapped his shin with the base of her staff in an impatient gesture.

"I d-don't understand," he stood up while wearing an expression that she had once seen on a cow. "This isn't right; there wasn't anyone else here except Duncan and I."

"Duncan and _me_"

"What?"

"You meant to say Duncan and me, 'tis a common mistake."

He frowned and shook his head. "That doesn't even begin to approach important right now. Look, would you just explain to me what is going on?"

Morrigan sighed and stepped past him to stand over the corpse of the man he had just killed. Motioning him closer, she impatiently frowned when he shuddered and tried look away. "You are acting like a child Alistair. Come here, you will need to see this if you want to understand."

"Understand what? That I killed Duncan?" There was a hysterical edge to his voice that she did not like.

"You did not really kill him. This is simply a dream that has been conjured up by the abomination we met in the Tower." She waved a hand about to encompass their surroundings. "All of this is but little more than a fantasy you have subconsciously created. Think back and try to remember how you came to be in this place. Ask yourself why you have no concept of either arriving, or of your motivation in being here. Moreover, is it even possible you _could _have killed him?"

For a long moment, Alistair did nothing but stare at her with dark suspicion. Then, as she watched, his eyebrows drew close together and a deep furrow creased his forehead. With startling abruptness, the golden armor he wore faded into the battle-stained plate he had been wearing back in the Circle Tower. Shoulders slumping, Alistair gave a quite sigh and looked at her with eyes unclouded by the confusion and sorrow of his dream. Around them, the walls of the temple crumbled and the grassy plains receded to reveal the bare essence of the Fade.

As the last of his dream dissolved, the sickly yellow light of the Fade fell upon the uniformly brown earth of the island they now stood upon. The island was impossible suspended in thin air over a bottomless abyss that stretched out beneath them. On the distant horizon, Morrigan could just barely make out the dark silhouette of the Black City. The one true constant in the inherently mutable realm of the Fade, the Black City was supposedly the twisted remnants of the Maker's seat of power. No matter where one traveled in the Fade, the menacing towers of the abandoned city remained at the same distance. Other than the two of them, the island was utterly uninhabited save for the abstract sculptures of metal and stone that randomly dotted the landscape.

"What is this place?" A curious mixture of revulsion and awe colored his tone as he turned his head to look around.

"I suppose you could say 'tis your mind. Rather empty is it not?" Morrigan felt a smirk twist her lips. "Though to be fair to you, most people do not bring much with them into the Fade. I assure you, it would be a far livelier place if a demon had not simply immersed you in a single thought. That was quite fortunate for us actually, 'tis far more difficult to find someone in the expanse of their entire mind."

Alistair gave her a mildly horrified look. "We are inside of my head?"

"Not really, think of it as someone painting part of your mind on the canvas of the Fade. It may be quite convincing, but the majority of your thoughts remain with you while only a single dream is played out around you. Placing your entire mind in the Fade would be far too difficult for a demon."

"Ah…ok I suppose. But if that's true, why are you here? I don't dream about you…at least, not in this context." A note of wry humor crept into his voice and he gave her a slight smile. She supposed that meant he was coming back into himself. As to whether or not that was a good thing was a matter of personal opinion.

"'Tis far easier to free another from a dream than to recognize the fallacies in your own imaginings. Thus, in order to prevent myself from becoming trapped in my own delusions, I forced myself into your mind in the hopes of freeing you from your confinement. 'Twas not ideal, but you were the only one who had not fallen into sleep back on the mortal realm."

Alistair rubbed at his brow line. "So we're being trapped in the demon realm by an abomination. This really is the cherry on an already wonderful day."

"Yes, 'tis likely the work of a Sloth demon…a very old one at that."

"Well, you're the magic expert. Where the hell do we go from here?" He walked over to the edge of the island and gave a low whistle as he peered over the side.

Morrigan paused a moment in consideration. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure if they had anywhere to go now that they had severed Alistair's dream. When she had acted back in the Tower, she hadn't really gotten this far in the planning process. Still, unless the Sloth demon was unspeakably powerful, it would have to abide by the general laws of magic.

"The demon must have anchored his power in one of us in order to keep all of us under its spell. While that means that we are all under its power, it also means that if we can all be freed so long as we shatter that person's dream." She tapped her lip thoughtfully. "By nature, a sloth demon is prone to taking the path of least resistance. I would not be surprised if it simply chose to anchor itself in the closest available target."

Alistair looked back and frowned. "Kallian was in the front when it attacked."

"Yes, I would imagine that she is the anchor. We will have to travel through the other's dreams if we want to reach her however."

"Sounds like a plan…except for the part where we are trapped on a floating island in the middle of nightmare land."

She smirked at him. "That is where you come in. Unlike you, I am not connected by the others because I was never placed into my own dream. You on the other hand, are directly connected to everyone in the demon's spell. That means that you must create the path to the others."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Think about it."

"….I don't follow."

"Surely 'tis not too much to ask that you use what little brains you possess? You need to _literally _think about creating a pathway to the others." She gestured into the void that surrounded them. "After that, your subconscious should take over and construct it for us."

Alistair shrugged and folded his arms while staring intently at the ground. For close to a minute, he glared down at the earth with a look of deep concentration on his face. Morrigan watched with interest as his face turned red and veins stood out against his forehead.

Just as she opened her mouth to offer some advice, the ground disappeared.

xxXxx

For several horrifying moments, Morrigan was surrounded by absolute darkness as she plummeted downwards. Releasing a startled scream, she tried to orient herself as she fell. As abruptly as her descent began, it ended in the form of her slamming back first onto a hard stone floor. The air whooshed out of her body and Morrigan grunted as the back of her head cracked against the rough surface. Gasping as she tried to regain her breath, Morrigan became dimly aware of Alistair groaning on the ground next to her. Giving him the nastiest look she could manage, Morrigan rolled on her side to face him.

"Instead of…a door…a staircase…even…a simple bloody pathway….you chose…to think about….falling." Her words came out in bursts as a result of her winded condition.

"Sorry, we don't all go about travelling in the demon world for fun. I thought that this was how these magic things were done." Apparently less bothered than she by the rough landing; Alistair regained his feet and offered her an arm to help her up. Tempted to ignore it out of spite, she nonetheless grabbed his forearm and allowed herself to be hauled to her feet.

"At least we won't be trapped on that rock together for eternity. That would be a fate worse than death." She ran a hand along the back of her head gingerly. "Now we just have to figure out where we—"

"What is this? Who are you people and what are you doing in my home?" A heavily-accented male voice came from behind them.

As one, Morrigan and Alistair whirled about to come face-to-face with an obscenely fat man with an Antivan's coloring. Dressed in heavily embroidered silks, the man stared at them both with an incongruous mixture of fear and indignation. A panicked look about revealed that they were in a lavishly decorated bedchamber complete with a four-poster bed and oak paneling. Overall, the room had an unpleasantly garish sense of decor that was accentuated by the overwhelming stench of the hanging incense braziers. Through the opened window at the man's back, a warm night's breeze drifted across the chamber. Blinking in surprise, Alistair raised up both of his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Eh-heh, our mistake sir, we got lost on the way to the…..erm….other place."

"This is unacceptable, I am calling the guards!" The fat man faced the door and opened his mouth as if to call out. As it turned out, he would never have the opportunity.

A slender white hand reached over from his shoulder and clapped itself over his mouth. At the same time, a pronounced shiver shook its way through his body. Fascinated, Morrigan watched as the bloody point of a thin blade suddenly erupted from the center of his chest. Muffled exclamations of pain sounded through the hand over his mouth until the blade sharply twisted. Giving a final, undignified gurgle, the man collapsed onto his knees before falling forward to reveal his murderer.

Alistair recognized her first. "Wait…Leliana?"

Eyes widening, Morrigan realized that it was in fact, Leliana. Though the girl in front of them was no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, there was no mistaking the fiery red hair or dancing blue eyes. She was wearing a revealing cream-colored dress that was now spotted in the blood of the fat man in front of her. In one hand, she held the blade that she had killed him with. Raising her clean hand to brush her waist-length hair over one shoulder, the girl gave them a mischievous smile. When she spoke, her voice was thickly choked by her Orlesian accent.

"You know my name?" She slowly began to circle around them while never losing the smile. "That means…this is a game of Marjolaine's yes? You can tell her I had no problems with Monsieur Ruiz. He did not even manage to get me into the bed."

Alistair scratched at the back of his head. "Well…we aren't really friends of this Marjolaine I'm afraid. Look this might sound a little odd, but you are dreaming right now and–"

"You must have my forgiveness, my understanding of the Ferelden language is," she cocked her head and waved a hand in a searching gesture. "Oh, how you say…incomplete!" Leliana gave them a brilliant smile.

"Yes well, that's quite alright but this really is important." Alistair looked over at Morrigan as if he wanted some form of support.

Leliana came to a sudden halt and reversed her grip on the dagger so that the blade sprouted out of the bottom of her first. "I agree with you, if you are no friends of Marjolaine…then you are witnesses no?" With that, she leapt at Alistair with a cry.

"Gah!" He raised one armored forearm to block the stab, and locked a hand around each of her wrists. Eyes wide, he jerked his head to Morrigan. "Help!"

Morrigan cocked a brow and leaned against her staff. "That may not be wise, if my magic seriously harms her, the damage might transfer over to the mortal realm. 'Tis best not to risk it."

Alistair made a pained grunting noise as Leliana planted a kick in his side and yanked her blade free. Lurching back just in time to avoid a viscous slice to his face, he gripped Leliana by the waist and bodily threw her away from him. After landing with a recovery that would have done an acrobat credit, the girl sprang up into a crouch and gave him a cheeky grin.

"Morrigan, we need to snap her out of it right now!" His voice was tense and he kept a careful eye on the girl's movements.

"Well that should not be too difficult seeing as this is a dream of her past. All you must do is force her to think about something that she would not have encountered at this point." Morrigan sank into one of the plush velvet chairs as she watched Leliana stalk Alistair across the room. Truth be told, she liked this version of the Chantry Sister much better.

"Leliana…" Alistair jerked back as she gave a playful feint with the blade. "Do you remember the Chantry in Ferelden?"

"Hmm…I had a job that took place at a Chantry. That was in Orlais though." Her blue eyes gleamed as she steadily increased her pace to maintain the distance between them.

Alistair moved around a table in order to split them apart. "The Chantry was in Lothering and you went there after you decided to quit being a Bard. Four weeks ago, you met Kallian in a bar and asked to join up with us to fight the Darkspawn. Is any of this getting through to you? Do you remember why you wanted to go with us in the first place?"

The girl paused in the act of vaulting onto the table. Slowly lowering her leg back down, Leliana gave him a curious look as she unwound from her combat stance "I…I had a vision I think. It was something about the Maker and an elf."

"An elf! Yes that was Kallian and I am Alistair. We are friends of yours."

"Friends?" Her accent became markedly lighter.

"Yes, and you do not stab your friends to death."

The girl brought one delicate hand up to clasp at her forehead. "But I've never been to Ferelden in my life….have I?"

Leliana trembled for a moment before the changes began. Her hair shortened to shoulder length and her clothes warped and shifted to become her set of leather armor. Blinking repeatedly, she gave them a slightly blank look as her face became that of the older Leliana. She then took a deep breath and offered them a shaky smile as she carefully set the knife down on the table. "I would really appreciate it if someone could tell me what exactly is going on."

The she turned into mist.

Alistair stumbled back and turned to Morrigan with wide eyes. "Andraste's sword! She just!...but…I mean…what?"

"'Tis nothing to worry about, she's simply fallen out of the dream. Once we break the demon's hold on Kallian, she'll reform in the Fade. Until then, she's probably in less danger than we are." Morrigan inwardly smiled at the bemusement that played on his face.

"If that's true, then why didn't I go all misty when you got me out of my dream?"

Morrigan levered herself out of the chair and strolled over to where he was standing. "Simple really, I am acting as your anchor in the Fade. We are physically connected in the mortal realm, and that prevented you from dissembling once we freed your mind. 'Twas actually quite the brilliant move on my part."

"Yeah, you're a peach. Let's get on with it shall we?"

Tossing him a disdainful look, Morrigan motioned for him to follow as she led him along the bedchamber to the doorway. She halted in front of the carved wood and turned back to him with a gesture in the direction of the doorknob. "This time, let us see you work harder at the means of transportation. Try to imagine that this doorway leads to the next of our companions and it will do so when we open it."

"Sounds easy enough," Alistair gave her a confident look. "It just took a while last time because I wasn't even sure that this would work."

Alistair closed his eyes in concentration as he placed a hand on the doorknob and opened the door swiftly. Peering around his shoulder, Morrigan frowned sharply as she stared into the impenetrable darkness that lay beyond the threshold. Alistair opened his eyes and made a noise of thoughtful consideration as he looked at his passageway. After he noticed her obvious displeasure, the man gave her an apologetic shrug. "Whoops, guess my subconscious has a thing for falling into unending darkness….I wonder if that says something about me."

Morrigan sighed.

xxXxx

In the smallest of mercies, the ground that they landed on was soft and giving instead of hard stone. Morrigan spat out a mouthful of grit as she pushed herself off of her stomach and quickly got to her feet. The first thing she noticed was the heavy mist that blanketed the surrounding area. Walking over to where Alistair was gathering himself up, Morrigan let out a startled curse as her foot connected with something hard. A quick look down made her jerk back as she realized it was a gravestone. To be more precise, it was one of the many gravestones that adorned the densely wooded landscape.

"I think we can agree that this portends badly for this dream." Alistair came up behind her and glanced around at the rows of graves. "Do you by chance hear a scrapping noise coming from over there?"

Morrigan cocked her head to the side and listened carefully. Sure enough, a dull rasping noise drifted over from the direction Alistair had indicated. Unable to see through the thick haze of mist, she pushed past Alistair and began moving towards the sound. After a moment, the dull clank of armor signified that Alistair was following behind her.

"So to be clear, you hear an unidentifiable scrapping noise in a graveyard and your instincts tell you to go towards it?"

Morrigan decided not to dignify that with a response as she weaved between the headstones. Unlike in Alistair's dream, the sense of calm in this area was more eerie than peaceful. All at once, the heavy mists parted to reveal Wynne standing knee deep in a half-dug grave. Giving no sign that she noticed their approached, Wynne bent down and hefted a small shovel in both hands. A dull scrap tore through the air as she thrust it into the black dirt of the graveyard. Cautiously moving closer, Alistair leaned over the edge of the grave and peered down at the woman. "Hello Wynne, is that a grave you are digging?"

"Yes" She neither stopped her work nor bothered to look up.

Pushing back the surge of impatience that rose up within her, Morrigan cleared her throat loudly. "Why are you digging a grave?"

"For them"

The older woman pointed off to her right. Following her arm, Morrigan blinked as a veritable mountain of corpses seemed to materialize out of thin air. Though most were clothed in the loose robes of the Circle mages, she could see a few that wore the heavy plate of the Templars. Realizing where this was going, Morrigan shifted her feet and glanced over at Alistair with a longsuffering look. For his part, Alistair simply gave the grisly mound an unhappy look before turning back to Wynne. The mage planted the shovel in the dirt as she them with a drawn look on her face.

"I should have worked harder to save them. All of this could have been prevented if I had simply been better. There were things that could have been done, measures that might have been enacted. Now though, it is too late and this is all I can do for them. Leave me alone so I may continue." She took up the shovel and began to dig once more.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. It stood to reason that this was some form of nightmare in which Wynne punished herself for not stopping the calamity at the Tower. Alistair made a sympathetic noise as he watched the women set about her grisly task. Shaking his head, he walked back to where Morrigan stood; Alistair raised a hand and ran it through his hair. Drawing her close with a light grip on his shoulder, Alistair leaned in and spoke in a quiet whisper. "So how do we go about helping her? I'm thinking we will have to provide her some kind of closure for the deaths of all the mages. Perhaps if we are able to convince her that there was nothing she could have done, she'll begin to forgive herself."

After tugging free of his hold, Morrigan walked around the grave until she was facing Wynne head on. Then, she leaned down and sharply rapped the older woman on the head with her staff.

"Stop acting like this."

Wynne staggered and clutched at her forehead in surprise. With a gasp of outrage, she dissolved into a burst of mist as she dropped out of the dream. Smirking in satisfaction, Morrigan straightened up and leaned against her staff. Shortly thereafter, the mountain of corpses slowly faded into nothingness and the oppressive mist lift to the point where they could see more than a few feet in front of them.

Across from her, Alistair tossed both his hands up into the air. "Why didn't we address the smack-them-on-the-head strategy before Leliana tried to kill me?"

"She required a more delicate touch." Morrigan waved a hand in dismissal. "Aside from that, 'twas quite amusing. Are you planning on making the next portal before we both die of old age?"

He muttered something unpleasant about "swamp hags" as he turned away from her and faced the tree line. Frowning in concentration, he spread his hands in a wholly unnecessary gesture. To Morrigan's surprise, the trees began to shift and groan as they moved to form a clear trail through the forest. Lowering his hands, Alistair turned around and gave her a broad smirk. "Alright admit it, you are totally impressed. I mean, anyone can make a doorway. Bending a forest to your will takes class."

"An idiot child could have accomplished the same thing in a much shorter amount of time." They began to walk along the trail he had created. "The first time I entered the Fade, Mother had me construct a miniature city that functioned in all the ways a city should. It had aqueducts, sewers, churches, marketplaces, and even a governmental seat of power. Afterwards, she had me give life to small race of creatures to populate the city I had built. For two months of my life, I would periodically enter the Fade and act as a deity to them. Under my watch, they became a utopia that celebrated its artists and scholars. They knew nothing of war, and soon developed to the point where they were able to prevent sickness and famine. They were…perfect in a fashion."

Alistair gave her an odd little smile. "That actually sounds rather nice Morrigan. What happened to them?"

"They repurposed a temple built in my honor." She smiled softly. "So, I struck them all with blindness and removed their ability to have children. Their society collapsed within a matter of days, and I erased anything that testified to them ever existing."

"You know, you are going to be a wonderful mother."

Morrigan scoffed and turned her nose up in the air. To be truthful, she sometimes regretted acting so hasty with her little city. Though she had been hurt by her subject's dismissal of her hard work, she hadn't really wanted to eradicate them. Still, she had been eight years old and had succumbed to a small fit of rage. In the end, it had all been for the best because Mother had been enormously pleased with the way she had handled the situation. Privately, she had been tempted to create a new society after destroying her old one, but somehow is hadn't seemed like it would have been the same.

After a few minutes of walking through the still forest, their path took a steep downhill slant and the temperature began to drop. Before long, the two of them were walking ankle-deep in icy snow. The trees on either side of them began to thin out rapidly as they approached the threshold to another dream. In the span of a footstep, the scenery shifted from a woodland trail to a rough cobblestone street in the middle of what looked to be a large city. Pausing just after the crossing, Morrigan cast a look over her shoulder and smiled. A small of grove of trees with a dirt path in the center stood in the middle of the metropolitan sprawl like a last bastion of nature. It was an utterly impossible and wonderful trick of the Fade.

She shivered as she stood in the frozen marketplace that they had walked into. It was nighttime here, and everything was smothered in an unbroken sea of white snow. Thick icicles hung off the eaves of the surrounding shops, and the great fountain at the center of the pavilion had frozen over completely. Unlike a real city, the night air was free of the barking of dogs, shouting of drunks, and general clamor of thousands of people living together. Instead, there was a still silence that loomed over everything and made her feel like an unwelcome visitor. Beside her, Alistair stomped his feet a few times and shifted about in a restless manner.

"Well, I suppose I would've been more surprised if Kallian's dream featured sunshine and rainbows." Though he spoke softly, the words seemed far too loud against the backdrop of the quiet city.

He gave a wince as his voice echoed back to them. Alistair then began to cautiously forge a path through the field of snow. Morrigan followed without any particular enthusiasm. Though she could have cast a spell to generate warmth, she was well aware that magic could have unintended effects in the Fade. This was especially true when one travelled in the mental landscape of someone without any magic at all. For all she knew, Kallian's mind would reject the magic and shut down completely. That would prove disastrous for everyone involved.

Alistair paused nearby a stall with a faraway look on his face. "I'm pretty sure this is Denerim. I've only been here once, but I recognize some of these shops. This is the main market district unless I'm wrong. Really sort of makes sense when you consider that Kallian is from here and everything. I seem to remember more people though…"

As if in response to his comment, a clamor of voices abruptly rose up from an alley that stood perhaps twenty feet from their position. From the shadows, four men in uniform had a firm grip a struggling elf girl of perhaps thirteen years. Morrigan's eyes narrowed as she watched the teenaged version of Kallian strike out with a foot at one of the men who gripped her arms. Nearly losing his grip, the man cursed and struck her hard enough to make her go limp for a moment. Rearranging his hold to grip her hand, the man leaned in close and growled in her face.

"Let's see if ya' ever try ta' pick a nobleman's pocket again."

With that, he grabbed one of her figures and broke it with a sickening crack. Kallian released a gut-wrenching scream and thrashed against the arms that restrained her. In a rush a clanking metal, Alistair swiftly closed the distance between them just as the guard took a hold of another one of her fingers. Lowering his shoulder, Alistair charged the man who was torturing her with an angry yell. When he reached his target, Alistair barreled straight though the guard as if he were attacking a ghost. Overbalanced, he stumbled a few steps before taking a nasty fall into a nearby snow bank. In his wake, the four guardsmen and Kallian slowly faded before disappearing into thin air.

Morrigan frowned in confusion as she stalked over to where the apparition had vanished. In a supreme effort of will, she ignored Alistair as he sputtered and flailed about in the waist deep snow. Bending down, she searched the ground that the men had stood upon. Like the rest of the marketplace, the snow that had lain beneath their feet was utterly unblemished. In fact, only the footsteps she and Alistair had left marred the otherwise picturesque pavilion. A prickle of unease shot down her spine as she peered down the alley from which the vision had appeared. Aspects of a dream had physical presence in the Fade; only memories left no imprint as they moved about.

"We may have encountered a problem of sorts." Morrigan murmured thoughtfully as she passed her hand over the snow. "If this were a dream, you would have been able to interact with the guards. By their nature, dreams are manifestations of ideas in which a person is a participant. You do not recall or observe a dream so much as you experience it."

"Uh-huh, and what does that mean exactly?" Alistair brushed a few errant snowflakes out of his hair as he came up to stand beside her.

"That we are currently surrounded by a physical representation of her life's experiences. This city is how she subconsciously organizes her memories. I would imagine that we saw that delightful little scene because she associates this part of the marketplace with that particular experience. 'Tis quite fascinating really, it should not even be possible for the demon to drag this much of her mind into the Fade."

""I'm not entirely sure fascinating is the appropriate word."

"As you say, but this may very well work in our favor. While dreams are influenced solely by the dreamer, a mind by itself is far more open to suggestion." Morrigan felt a rush of pleasure as the plan formulated in her mind. "You share a connection with Kallian as a result of the Sloth demon's influence; you should be able to open a gateway to her in a similar fashion to how you bridged the dreams together."

He frowned. "Just like that?"

"More or less, though I would suggest that you only try to influence the existing doorways in the marketplace. Damaging or changing the actual structure of the city would be roughly equivalent to poking at her brains with your fingers. 'Twould likely drive her insane and then kill her. That would be…disastrous for everyone involved."

Alistair gave her a deeply troubled look as he turned away. However, Morrigan was pleased to see that this did not keep him from closing his eyes and concentrating on the task she had given him. Though she had exaggerated about the consequences of changing the makeup of Kallian's mind, Morrigan was not keen on the notion of affecting the elf's memories any more than was necessary. After a few minutes of silence, Alistair looked up and peered across the snowy marketplace. On the opposite side from where they were standing, a light now spilled from beneath a single doorway. Shrugging to himself, Alistair turned back and gave Morrigan a nervous look. "How do I know if I just drove her insane or not?"

She began to walk towards the doorway he had altered. "Let me assure you, we would know if we affected her mind in any significant capacity."

They moved across the courtyard with an unspoken agreement to tread carefully. Alistair was now visibly flinching every time his boots sunk into the snow. Though Morrigan could have reassured him that their progress did little to harm Kallian, she thought best if he had a proper respect for the consequences of actions in the Fade. This would keep him careful as they approached the more delicate areas of the elf's consciousness.

As they passed closed by a vender's stall, another memory flickered to life. An older female elf with long, dark hair handed some type of baked sweet to a child-version of Kallian. Laughing in pleasure, the young girl ate the food with apparent relish. Not too far away from where they stood, a teenaged Kallian walked arm in arm with a red-headed elf girl while singing drunkenly. Though she noticed Alistair's head swiveling to take in the visions, Morrigan kept her own eyes facing forward. What they did now was necessary, but Morrigan would try to give the elf as much privacy as she could manage.

Stepping around a memory of a ten-year old Kallian fighting with a larger boy, they reached their destination at last. A large building, the house that Alistair had chosen had a peeling sign in front of it that proudly announced itself to be "The Gnawed Noble". One of her eyebrows crept up as she gave Alistair an inquiring glance. "You chose a drinking hall?"

He flushed. "It was the only place I really remembered from when I came here. I didn't think it mattered."

"It doesn't," she grabbed the heavy door handle and pulled it open with a jerk. A wave of blissful heat washed over them as they stepped out of the biting cold of the marketplace. While the room they entered was well lit by a large stone fire pit in the center, it did not look like any tavern that Morrigan had ever seen. Instead of a bar or common area, the room contained neither furniture nor anything of particular interest. Instead, identical wooden doors lined the walls of the long, but narrow space. In fact, the room more closely resembled a glorified hallway than anything else.

"Well, it's a little different than I remembered."

Morrigan walked a little further into the room and examined the first door on the right. "That is because we are not in the tavern in Denerim. Unless I am very much mistaken, these doorways lead to the memories which are most important to her. It stands to reason that she would choose to surround herself with them."

"So what, we have to pry through her personal thoughts to find her?"

"Not all of them," she ran her finger along the edge of the door nearest to her. "These are all dated. 'Tis my opinion that we should start at the most recent in the hopes that she is dwelling on all that has happened in the last few months."

Giving a shrug that desperately wanted to seem casual, Alistair led the way to the other end of the corridor. As they went, Morrigan carefully noted the dates on the doorway and watched as they steadily rose in years. To her relief, only three doors were marked "9:30 Dragon Age". They came to a halt in front of the three doorways and exchanged a look. After an awkward moment, Morrigan indicated the door on the left. "I will take this one and you take one of the others. 'Twill be faster that way I think."

"I dunno Morrigan, this really feels wrong somehow."

"It _is _wrong halfwit, but 'tis also the only way in which we can escape the Sloth demon's hold." She felt a wave of irritation that was not directed entirely at Alistair. What they were about to do was generally frowned upon by most practitioners of magic. Entering someone's mind in this fashion was a taboo that even Mother had warned against.

With a final, unhappy look, Alistair placed a hand on his doorknob and turned it. Brushing back her own misgivings, Morrigan opened her door and entered before she could think about what she was doing. At first, the room was filled only with an odd, swirling darkness that she found uncomfortably ominous. Then, like an entire picture being painted in a matter of seconds, a world was built around in her is a rush of colors and sounds.

It was nighttime, and Morrigan found herself standing on a stone watchtower that overlooked the Wilds near Ostagar. In front of her, Kallian stood near Alistair and the dark-haired man who he had killed in his dream. In his hands, the man held a great silver chalice that he held out to Kallian in offering. "Kallian Tabris, step forward and accept this test."

Unable to help herself, Morrigan stepped forward and watched the proceedings with interest. The initiation ceremony of the Grey Wardens was so private that there was no record of what it entailed. Learning the secret to what gave them their unique properties could prove advantageous.

Trembling slightly, Kallian looked up at the man as she accepted the chalice. "If I don't make it…will you tell my father that I died without pain or anything?"

The man nodded slightly. "I will do that, but you must do this now child."

With one final gasp of breath, the elf raised the chalice to her lips and drank deeply. Lowering the cup, she shuddered at the taste of whatever it was she drank. The dark-haired man gently tugged the cup out of her hands and placed it on a nearby table. Morrigan started in surprise, when Kallian gave a keening wail and convulsed violently. Staggering to one side, her eyes snapped open to reveal pure white orbs the contained neither irises nor pupils. She then pitched forward, but Alistair was there to catch her as she fell. He lowered her to the floor and stepped back with a strained look on his face.

The scene began to distort and blur as Kallian writhed about on the cobblestones. All around her, the swirling darkness slowly returned to encroach upon the corners of the vision. Just before the memory completely dispersed, Morrigan was able to hear one final comment from Alistair.

"Maker curse it, she's not going to make it."

With surprising abruptness, the memory condensed and disappeared all together. Morrigan lingered a moment to make sure that the memory had truly finished before she turned and blindly groped for the doorknob. Grasping the handle, she stepped back into the hallway and closed the door behind her. As there was no sign of Alistair, she leaned against the wall and waited impatiently. After a few minutes, Alistair's door opened and he stepped back into the hallway. He shut the door with a click and then folded his arms across his chest while he stared at the floor. Morrigan pushed herself off the wall and walked over to stand by the last door.

"I saw no sign of Kallian in that memory. However, 'twas rather interesting to have the chance to see the fabled initiation rite of the Grey Wardens." Certain that this would provoke a reaction from him, Morrigan flashed him a taunting smirk. To her surprise, he neither looked up nor gave any sign that he had heard her. "Are you even listening to me Alistair?"

He jerked up at the sound of his name and Morrigan had the impression that he had not even been aware that she was in the hallway. He was clenching her jaw so tightly that red stripes had appeared along his cheek bones. Blinking at the stony glare he shot her way, Morrigan cocked her head to one side in confusion. After a moment, Alistair looked down and released a breath through his teeth. "No, I wasn't listening, what were you saying?"

"It was nothing of importance, just mentioning that Kallian wasn't in the vision I saw." She watched him suspiciously. "Were you able to find her?"

"No, it was just a memory."

She frowned at his behavior as he reached past her to open the third door. It creaked open to reveal a room that seemed incredibly small after all the open places they had been recently. As they entered, Morrigan realized that it wasn't so much a room as it was an entire house. Consisting of a mere two rooms, Morrigan could see a dining table, two beds, and a kitchen cluttering the small space. Though the furniture was uniformly shabby and poorly constructed, the house was nonetheless well-cared for and clean. A small brick fireplace containing a few glowing embers cast a meager, flickering light in to the shack. While the kitchen and dining area was uninhabited, Morrigan could dimly make out a short figure in the back bedroom. Letting out a pleased exclamation, Alistair called out in a relived tone.

"Kallian? Are you for real this time?"

The elf turned to face them at the sound of his voice. Morrigan stepped back hastily as she got a good look at the other woman's face. Even in the darkness of the hut, she could clearly see the hollow look in Kallian's eyes. It was the same look she had worn when she butchered eight men in under a minute back in Lothering. Cocking her head to one side, Kallian stared at Alistair without any particular interest. For a long moment there was a deep silence in the cramped confines of the house.

"She is gone right now." Her voice was flat to the point of inhumanity when she spoke. "The Old One tried to trap her in nightmares. I sent her away so she would be safe. This is better."

Alistair gave an uncomfortable cough. "Um…right…and you are who?"

"Something else"

As she spoke, Kallian moved forward into the light of the kitchen to reveal that she was wearing a blood-splattered dress of surprising quality. With a pang of disquiet, Morrigan realized that a similarly bloody short sword dangled loosely in one of her hands. With his eyes firmly locked on her weapon, Alistair slowly circled around the table and plastered on a friendly smile. "Ah well that's very interesting. I like your dress by the way; it has a very…colorful quality about it."

Slowly, Kallian's eyes drifted over the clothes she wore as if she had never seen them before. Raising one arm, she examined the gore that saturated the garment. "This was what I was wearing when I was born. It is irrelevant otherwise."

"This is how she was like back when she fought the bandits." Morrigan murmured softly.

Kallian lowered her arm and stared at her. "The bandits made her angry. I got rid of them for her. It was better afterwards."

"Err…yes I suppose it was a little better." Alistair rubbed at the back of his neck in a nervous manner. "If you don't mind me asking, where exactly is Kallian? Not that this isn't fun or anything, but I can't help but feel that we should leave the Fade as quickly as possible."

"The Old One scared her and made her angry. I kept him from hurting her. It is better this way."

Morrigan waved a hand. "Perhaps, but I wonder: will it be better once the demon has drained all of her life's essence away? It may take several centuries in the Fade, but it will only be a few days in the mortal realm. Waiting in the little room surely won't do anyone much good."

"I will bring her back, it doesn't really matter." Kallian tilted her head and studied the dagger she held. "I cannot kill the Old One. He hides from me."

Alistair smiled. "Well don't worry, once she's back, we'll get rid the demon for you."

"That will be better."

Morrigan rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers against the wood of her staff. At this point, she couldn't decide whether Kallian was insane or not. Though the presence of this secondary personality suggested mental aberration, she had also read of individuals who possessed odd defensive mechanisms in their minds.

Regardless, the elf formerly known as Kallian walked over to the side of the hut and placed one hand on the wall. As though she had given some command, their surroundings began to melt and distort in mad fluctuations. Within a few short seconds, there was no trace of either the room, or the city that had made up Kallian's mind. Instead, they now stood on one of the twisted islands that made up the bare landscape of the Fade.

"One day, you'll make her afraid or angry." Kallian turned her head to regard them both with unblinking eyes. "One day, you'll do something to hurt her somehow. I will get rid of you when that happens. Things will be better then."

…

…

"….Well, that's somewhat unsettling."

Alistair gave a nervous smile as Kallian made a sharp cutting gesture with one hand. Just as everything went dark, Morrigan caught a glimpse of the cold smile that fixed itself upon the elf's sharp features.

It made her shiver.

xxXxx

Morrigan's nose wrinkled as she took in the rotting smell of her surroundings.

She slowly awakened, but she kept her eyes closed as she hovered somewhere between sleep and the waking world. As she stirred, the cold touch of metal against her cheek made her frown in mild protest. In a supreme effort of will, Morrigan dragged her eyelids open and peered about blearily. It took a moment for Morrigan's sleep-addled mind to catch up to what she was seeing. With some surprise, she realized that she was no longer in the Fade. On a more personal level, she was also lying sprawled over Alistair's chest.

Morrigan scrambled away from the man in an undignified motion as she regained her feet and looked about wildly. About her, the other members of their party began to stir and grumble as they were roused from their deep slumber. A deep yawn sounded behind her as Kallian stood and arched her back in catlike stretch. Rubbing one eye, the elf looked around with a slightly confused look on her face. "Did I miss something?"

"No more than usual." Morrigan muttered as she nudged Alistair in the side with her foot. He started with a jolt and sat up in surprise. Groaning as he brought one hand up to his forehead, Alistair raised one eyebrow as he glanced upwards to look at her.

"I don't feel all that well rested."

Morrigan bent down and picked her staff off of the stone floor. "Time passes differently in the Fade than in the mortal world. I would imagine that we were not truly asleep for more than a minute at most."

"I believe we have you and Alistair to thank for that." Wynne and Leliana had wandered over and the older mage was wearing a rueful smile. "It pains me to admit it, but I don't know if I ever would have recognized that I was in the Fade if it hadn't been for the two of you."

"It really was no big deal." Alistair gave them a sheepish smile while Morrigan just rolled her eyes and looked away. They were right to thank her; she _had_ saved their lives after all.

Kallian grunted and pointed past Alistair. "What do you think we should do about that?"

Following her finger, the group turned to face the Sloth abomination that still stood in the center of the room. As it stared back at them, Morrigan felt a feeble tug of energy as it tried to bring them under its spell once more.

…_WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO GO BACK TO SLEEP?_

Leliana's arrow sprouted from the the center of its chest a moment before Kallian's knife sunk deep into its neck. Reaching inside of her, Morrigan gather her magic and brought a crackling ball of lightning to life in her hand. With the barest of thoughts, the magic jumped from her fingers and effectively blew the abomination's head to pieces and sent its body flying back to land in a twitching heap. She let out a pleased little sigh as she looked at her handiwork.

"'Tis moments like these that make it all worthwhile."

* * *

Have you ever written a chapter or something and just had absolutely no idea how it turned out? That's how I feel about this one. I don't know whether it's cohesive or not, and I'm not sure if what I intended to be funny actually came off as humorous. So please, hit me up with a review and let me know where it worked and where it didn't.

Good news is I have some great ideas for the next few chapters and I can't wait to write them. Bad news is that I'm heading into a very ugly week of midterms.

Thanks for reading!


	10. The Navesink Banks

A/N: For the first time, I wrote a chapter that is mostly dialogue and I must say I'm rather happy with it. I want to give a big thank you to the people who take the time to read and review. More often than not, I've revised the events of the story based off the advice you have given me. So again, thanks for helping me out with the story thus far.

Chapter 10: The Navesink Banks

The Circle Tower-Outside of Lake Calenhad

_The past is never dead, it is not even past._-William Faulkner

* * *

Kallian sighed and leaned her head against the cool stone wall.

Around her, the Templars moved about the entry hall in a blur of motion as they examined and chanted over the mages that had been subjected to Uldred's captivity. Though he had been grateful to them for saving lives, Greagoir had refused to allow anyone out of the Tower without a thorough observation to ensure that no abominations slipped into the outside world. It was a considerable delay, but Kallian hadn't argued because she simply didn't give a damn at this point. An entire day of traversing through a haunted tower had left her feeling utterly exhausted. So with only the feeblest of glares, she had sat quietly while a stuttering Templar had butchered the Chant of Light while waving a hand around her head.

After he helpfully declared her free of any taint, Kallian had gotten up and found an unoccupied bench in a dark corner of the room. From there, she had watched the long process of purification as several dozen mages were subjected to the same treatment she had enjoyed. Both Alistair and Wynne had been surprised and delighted to learn that they were able to save so many of the magic-users. As far as anyone could tell, the psychotic leader of the blood mages had been keeping them captive in the hopes of turning them into abominations.

A delightful bald fellow with crazy eyes, Uldred had wrested control of the Tower because he had worried that the Chantry held too much control over the mages. From what Kallian had gathered, Uldred had attempted to defeat the First Enchanter by reaching deep into the Fade to summon a demon. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he had royally fucked that up and become an incredibly powerful abomination. Within a few days, the overwhelming majority of the Circle mages were either dead or roaming the halls of the Tower as abominations.

As he had been capable of turning into a 12-foot tall demon, killing Uldred had not been an overly simplistic task. It had taken some doing, but Morrigan and Wynne had eventually managed to set him on fire with a potent spell that had cooked him inside of his chitinous shell. An effective strategy to be sure, but the disturbingly appetizing smell of his burnt flesh had lingered with Kallian for far too long afterwards.

Eyes cracked open a fraction, she watched Alistair as he stood with Irving and Greagoir in the center of the room. Kallian hadn't really spoken with the First Enchanter in any great length, but she had gotten the impression that he was an extraordinarily boring man. Feeling that she should leave the political and diplomatic discussions to those who gave a damn, Kallian had turned down Alistair's offer to speak with them. With nothing else to do while she waited, Kallian gently rubbed at her eyes while she marveled at just how tired she was.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

She lowered her hands and peered up at Leliana to see the other woman smiling at her in a perfectly cheerful manner. Shrugging, she gestured towards the empty seat next to her. "Go for it, I won't stop you."

"Thank you"

Leliana took a seat next to her and sat with her hands in her lap. For a long time, she smiled at Kallian without saying anything. It made Kallian feel self-conscious, and she shifted uncomfortably before looking sidelong at the bard. "Is something on your mind Sister?"

"It is nothing important," Leliana leaned against the wall and relaxed from her proper posture. "I was just curious as to why you were here instead of over there with Alistair and the mages. Aren't you curious as to whether or not the Circle will provide aid?"

"He can handle it."

Leliana's eyebrows crept up in response. Though she kept her eyes lazily fixed on the churning mass of people in the room, Kallian could tell that the Orlesian wanted to push the subject. To her credit however, Leliana simply made a neutral noise and toyed with her unstrung bow. A few moments of strained silence passed between the two of them before Leliana cleared her throat in a delicate fashion. "Are you happy with the way things turned out?"

"I don't know. If Alistair gets the First Enchanter to agree to help us than I guess it was all worth it." Kallian gave an emphatic shrug. "Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not really cut out like for this stuff. I'm a thief from Denerim, not the type of person who goes charging into a magical Tower looking to kill demons."

A slow smiled spread across Leliana's lips. "I know what you mean. It's days like today that make me wish I had just taken Lady Cecile's advice to find a nice man to marry. While it may not have been as lively, I think it would have been a far less stressful life to lead."

"Hmph…take it from me Sister, marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"You are married?" Leliana swung her head up to gawk at Kallian in surprise. "I had no idea!"

A sinking feeling went through her gut as Kallian realized that she had just more or less committed to talking about herself. If she really wanted to, it wouldn't be hard to write off what she had said and end the conversation here and now. The only problem was that would require her overtaxed brain to spit out a suitably believable explanation for what she had said. After a few seconds of mulling it over, she decided she may as well just talk.

"I'm not; it was an arranged marriage that didn't go through."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Kallian gave a shrug. "Don't be, I only knew my fiancé for a day and he wasn't…really my type."

Leliana raised a hand to stifle a small giggle that bubbled up from her throat. "Oh dear, it was one of those types of arranged marriages? Several of my friends from Orlais were committed to relationships with men who were either too old or rather hard on the eyes. It was one of the reasons I was not so keen on the idea myself."

"It wasn't that," Kallian shook her head. "He was one of the most handsome men I have ever met."

"Ah, so it was a problem with what was on the inside then." Leliana's eyes danced with amusement. "Don't tell me, let me guess: he was not clever enough for you?"

Kallian felt her lips curl into a smile at the enthusiasm in the other woman's voice. There was something infectious about the bard's good mood and it made her want to play along with the guessing game. "He was a blacksmith's apprentice who knew how to read and write. That was about as educated as an elf could get back in the Alienage. I'd imagine he was plenty smarter than I am."

"Hmm…he had no charm?"

"He was a like a poet when we first met."

"A poor sense of humor perhaps?"

"Oh no, he was friendly and seemed to laugh easily."

"If he were so perfect, he must have been full of himself."

"Not that I could tell."

Leliana winkled her brow and gave Kallian a searching look as if she thought she was being tricked somehow. Keeping her own face carefully neutral, Kallian stared right back and waited for the next question. Leliana gave her a small smile and shrugged. "Alright then, if he wasn't ugly, rude, boring, or arrogant, why didn't you want to marry him?"

Kallian smirked at her. "He was male."

It took a moment for it to sink in, but eventually Leliana's mouth made a small "o" as she caught Kallian's meaning. Though she seemed a little surprised, Leliana didn't seem all that shocked by her revelation. Same sex relationships weren't uncommon in Thedas, but there was a considerably large group of people who felt that it was something that should not be brought up in polite company. Orlesians in particular were rather stuffy when it came to the subject. Leliana however, just gave her a wry grin as she lifted one her legs to hug it against her chest.

"I can see how that would be a problem for you. What kept you from going through with it aside from the obvious?"

Kallian felt her smile disappear. "We actually made it halfway through the ceremony before someone protested the union and the entire thing was called off. I got recruited for the Wardens right after that and it all sort of became a mute point."

A fairly awkward silence fell between them as Leliana waited for her to elaborate and Kallian simply stared at her feet. Telling the other woman about her botched wedding was one thing, getting into the circumstances that led to her recruitment was another matter entirely. Leliana had proven herself to be good people, but that didn't mean that Kallian was going to go spilling her life's story to the shem. Still, it was kind of nice to talk to someone about something other than the Blight for a change. Kallian tried to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going.

"I…uh, I had a really nice dress though." She felt her face heating up even as she said it. "It was just…you know, the nicest thing I've ever owned. Now that I think about it, that was the only thing about that day that was absolutely perfect."

Leliana practically beamed at her. "If you ask me, that's the most important part! When I was a little girl, I would spend hours imagining the dress I would wear when I got married. It was always pink, and the more bows and ribbons the better."

"Glad to know I wasn't the only one." Kallian grinned crookedly and relaxed a fraction of an inch. "The damn thing must have cost my father a fortune in supplies. If my cousin hadn't sown it herself, I doubt we would have been able to afford it at all."

An odd expression crossed over the bard's face and she gave Kallian a slightly hesitant look. "This may be inappropriate, but may I ask you a personal question?"

"Just don't be disappointed if I don't answer."

"Well…I do not understand why your family would choose to set you up with an arranged marriage with a man." Leliana bit her bottom lip as she looked over at Kallian. "I'm aware that in general, arranged unions are often done without the consent of one or both parties; but I cannot help but feel that would be even harder for you. It just seems…a little callous of them."

Kallian took a deep breath and turned away to find somewhere else to look. It hadn't been too long ago that Kallian would have cheerfully told Leliana whatever she wanted to know about her. Then, she probably would've tried to see if the pretty redhead would be interested in a drink or two. That version of Kallian had been able to hold innocent conversations without flinching every time someone moved their hands too fast or asked the wrong type of question.

_Yeah, and look where that got her._

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the hard stone of the Tower's wall. Next to her, Leliana fidgeted as the pause between them grew longer. A huge part of her wanted to stand up and tell the other woman to mind her own business. She could hide behind the mask of aggression that had been so effective in keeping the pack of shems she traveled with from getting to close. It wouldn't be hard to do, and if she was hurtful enough, she might even keep Leliana from trying again.

With a sharp shake of her head, Kallian opened her eyes and steeled herself against the impulse. If she could handle becoming a Gray Warden, then there was no reason she couldn't answer a simple question about a family she would never see again. Giving Leliana a tight smile, Kallian leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "My father never knew that I leaned in that direction. I never told him."

The Orlesian woman was quick to mask her surprise at receiving an answer. With a nod of her head, she gave Kallian a quick smile. "I know it is difficult to speak of such things with those for whom you care the most about. Even when you know them well, it can be hard to know how they will react to such a thing."

"That wasn't the reason I never told him." Kallian held up a hand to stop her. "My father would've still loved me even if I had decided to start wooing Darkspawn or something. Knowing about it would have just taken something away from him I guess."

Leliana tilted her head to one side. "My apologies, I do not understand."

"Hell, I dunno Sister…it's just complicated alright? I mean, I don't even really get it most of the time."

"Well, if you feel like explaining it, I'm willing to listen."

Kallian folded her arms and glared into the crowd. Her inability to articulate herself was frustrating. It was bad enough that Leliana was prying into her life, now she was supposed to figure out how to explain her own twisted rational.

"Look, when you lived in the Alienage, you had to find something different. A bunch of people turned to the Chantry 'cause they liked to pretend that the Maker gave a damn about them. If it wasn't that, it was drinking, fighting, or fucking." She grimaced and shook her head. This wasn't what she had wanted to say. "The point I'm trying to make is that everyone had their own way of ignoring all the problems that they had. Not all of it was healthy, but that was usually the only thing that kept them going. In my dad's case, it was raising a family."

She paused a risked a glance up at Leliana. Though she was clearly listening attentively, the other woman's face gave no indication of what she was thinking. Having gone this far, Kallian saw no reason to stop now.

"Anyway, that was what he was all about. When he was a kid in one of the border towns, his parents got themselves killed when they joined up in an uprising against the local government. So, I guess he thought that when he started a family he do whatever he could to make sure that everyone stayed safe. He didn't gamble or drink like a lot of the other men did; he just saved his money and worked hard enough that we always had firewood and a little food. It wasn't easy for him, but it made him happy."

"That changed when mom got murdered in the markets. He tried not to let me see it, but you could just tell that he had lost a big part of himself. After that, he tried to keep me from stealing; but we needed the money with mom gone and neither of us wanted me to become a whore. It was around then that planning for my future became his major obsession. Even if it meant he'd go hungry for a week, he would save half of what he made down at the docks each week. Even before I was close to marriageable age, he was in contact with a number of families from other Alienages to make sure he could find the best man for me to marry. I tried to talk to him about it once, but he got so excited about the idea of me having a family that I just couldn't tell him."

The heel of her right foot was tapping up and down in a nervous motion. "So that was it I guess. All he wanted was for me to have a few kids and live with a good man. I think that after a while, it became more important for me to live in safety than for him to live at all. Around when he announced my engagement, I realized I couldn't live with myself if I ever took that away from him. He wanted me to marry and have kids….and those were things I could never do with another woman. So, I never told him and just sorta went with it."

Kallian fell silent and stared at her hands. At some point, she had stopped speaking to Leliana and simply began thinking aloud. For a time, the hustle and bustle of the Tower's entry chamber had fallen away and she had been 15-years old and standing in front of her father once more. Somewhat lost in her thoughts, she started slightly when Leliana's soft voice drifted over to her.

"Did you ever tell anyone?"

"Yeah sure, both of my cousins knew that I liked girls and why I never mentioned it to anyone." Kallian felt a smile spread across her lips. "It was just them and this one barmaid from the Gnawed Nobel. Everyone else just assumed I was a very virtuous young lady who was saving herself for marriage."

Leliana gave a small laugh and shook her head gently. "I'll confess Kallian, I find myself envying you. Even in such a place as you describe, I think it would be wonderful to have a group of people who cared enough about each other that they would give anything to make the others happy. I might have been a better woman if I had someone like your father in my life."

"Err…thanks, I think."

By this point, the conversation had grown personal enough that Leliana looked as uncomfortable as Kallian felt. It was with some relief that she noticed Alistair shaking hands with both Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving. Judging from the broad smile he was wearing, Kallian was inclined to think that all had gone well for their little party. She stood up and stretched the soreness out of her protesting muscles. Though it hadn't been exactly relaxing, her conversation with Leliana had felt good. These weren't things she had ever talked about in great length, and it felt nice to speak with another person after keeping to herself for so long.

She hefted her pack up and slung it onto her shoulders as Alistair pushed his way toward where they were sitting. As he approached, Alistair gave her an odd look and stopped several feet away from her as though he was afraid she'd bite. "Are you doing ok?"

"I'm all good, why do you ask?" She watched him in puzzlement as he avoided her eyes.

"No reason, I was just making sure."

His eyes darted to her face then quickly snapped over to look at Leliana. Frowning at his weird behavior, Kallian searched his face for a moment before shrugging it off. "So how did it go with Irving? We better have gotten the mages on our side after all the shit we went through to get them out of there alive."

"Oh we got them alright, plus a promise of aid from the Chantry from Greagoir himself. We'll be fighting the Blight with a few complements of Templar knights on our side in addition to the mages that the First Enchanter has promised." Alistair looked extremely proud with himself.

"Good to hear, we are probably going to need all the help we can get."

"Funny you should say that," Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just talking to Wynne and she mentioned that she wanted to help us on a more direct level. Look, I know that the two of you don't exactly get along but we could—"

"She can come along."

He blinked. "Oh…alright then"

"I don't like her, but her healing is pretty much invaluable. If it's the difference between me living and dying, I can tolerate her."

"Good, then I guess it's settled then." He smiled to himself like a kid who had just stolen candy. "Oh-ho, Morrigan is going to absolutely hate this."

Kallian raised an eyebrow. "When do we get to leave this place?"

"Greagoir's arranged for that delightful ferryman to take us back to the other side once we're all ready. Wynne's getting a few herbs together, but we should be ready to leave in a few minutes."

"That will be nice; I think I've seen enough of this place to last a lifetime." Leliana's tone was light as she walked by them with her pack.

Alistair watched her leave and then looked back at Kallian with the same odd expression he had worn when he first approached them. For a moment, he looked as though he was on the verge of saying something. Then, he simply gave her an awkward nod and moved to follow Leliana. Watching him go, Kallian scratched at the side of her head before rolling a shoulder into a shrug.

Shems were weird, what else was new?

xxXxx

With an undignified grunt, Kallian hauled the iron pot out of the river and nearly toppled over as the weight of the water dragged her to one side.

She gripped the pot in both hands and headed back in the direction of the campfire with quick little steps as she tried to deal with the burden. Though she had no way of proving it, she was beginning to think that making her fetch the party's water was Alistair's idea of a practical joke. Kallian had no problem with helping out, but literally every other person in the group with the exception of Wynne would be better suited to hauling the gigantic pot about. For shit's sake, Sten's arms were practically bigger than her entire torso.

A bit of water slopped over the rim as she dropped it down beside the fire with a sigh of relief. From her position by the fire, Wynne looked up from the pot she was stirring and gave Kallian a hesitant smile. "Thank you for that, dinner will be ready soon. It's been some time since I last cooked, so I'm not sure if that will be a good thing or not."

"Well, seeing as I've been the one cooking up until this point, I'm sure she'll manage." Alistair wandered over with Leliana close behind. Both of them had their arms full of wood that they placed into the existing pile on the ground.

"It's true, he's awful. What is it anyway?" Kallian leaned forward and stared at Wynne's pot with a wrinkled nose.

"A vegetable medley, I was going to make a stew, but Sten was kind enough to offer to provide the main course. I'm not quite sure where he went, but he assured me that he would have it soon." Wynne looked about as though she expected the seven-foot giant to be hiding behind them.

Alistair grimaced. "A vegetable medley, that sounds…healthy I guess."

"Thank you, I'm rather proud of it."

Kallian shook her head and drew her knife as she took a seat by the fire. A week or so back, she had borrowed a whetstone from Alistair and had spent her spare time keeping her weapons as sharp as possible. It was probably unnecessary, but she found the repetitive gesture soothing despite the sound it made. If she kept it up, she'd probably wear the blades down to nothing. Not that it mattered; in her experience replacement knives could pretty much be found anywhere if one was willing to look.

A rustle in the distant underbrush signaled the arrival of Boss. As soon as he saw Kallian, the gigantic hound barreled straight towards her with a constant stream of happy barks. Putting her knife away so she wouldn't accidently stick him, Kallian smirked when the dog butted her with his head and made a chuffing noise from deep in his chest. She ruffled his ears and turned her attention towards where Sten now approached from the same direction from which her dog had appeared.

The Qunari had something massive draped across his shoulders, and when he got close to the fire, he slung it down on the ground with a rattling thump. Kallian felt her eyebrows creep up as she saw what he had brought them.

"That's a bear."

While she had never actually seen a bear, it really couldn't be much else. It was about a hundred pounds heavier than Boss, and she could clearly see the gigantic teeth and claws that made them so feared in Ferelden. Its dark black fur gleamed wetly with blood, and unless she was mistaken, its neck was broken. Sten walked a little closer to the fire and turned to face her.

"Yes, it is a bear."

It was Leliana who voiced what they all were thinking. "Sten, why did you kill a bear?"

"I was told we needed meat." Sten nodded at Wynne. "I found it."

"Yes…thank you Sten this will be perfect. The only problem I see is that I'm not quite sure if I will be able to prepare this in time for supper." Wynne gave the bear's corpse an apprehensive glance as Alistair poked it with his foot.

"Wait…where is your weapon?" Kallian stared at Sten. While the giant was completely unarmed, the dim light of their campfire revealed the thick crust of blood that covered his forearms. "There is no way in hell you killed a bear with just your hands."

"No, the warrior helped." Sten nodded to Boss, who accepted the recognition with a quiet dignity.

Looking down, Kallian noticed for the first time that her dog's muzzle was an absolute mess. Where he had been rubbing against her, thick red smears now covered the previously clean clothes she had put on after returning after her bath. After a day spent in the Tower, the chance to be clean again had been worth the quick trip into the chilly river. Pushing Boss's head away from her leg with a groan, Kallian shook her head in resignation.

"I will prepare the corpse during my watch." Sten rumbled and dunked his hands into the water pot Kallian had brought from the river. Ignoring, her exclamation of dismay, he began to studiously wash the filth from his arms. "The mage can use her powers to keep the meat fresh."

"Magic can do that?" Alistair looked over at Wynne.

"I'm afraid I have no idea."

"Of course it can be done, 'tis rather simple if one knows what they are doing." Morrigan stalked over from the shadows and sat down beside Kallian. "I suppose I would not expect a sheltered Circle mage to be familiar with the technique as 'tis actually useful."

Wynne gave no sign that she had even heard the barb that Morrigan had thrown at her. "Well, I suppose we can just have bread and the vegetables for tonight then. Here, hand me your bowls and I'll dish you up something."

As she handed her own plate over to the mage, Kallian frowned at Alistair. "Ya' know, the very least those Templars could have done was offer to give us dinner considering we did their entire job for them and everything."

"Trust me; you really don't want to eat Templar rations." He gave them all a bright smile. "I mean, the way those guys cook a meal, you'd think that spice was a sin!"

Six pairs of eyes blinked or glared at him in silence. Alistair's smile slowly disappeared and he gave a small sigh as he looked down at his meal. For a little while, the entire party sat clustered around their campfire and ate their food in silence. Though she had never been a big admirer of vegetables, Kallian found that she rather enjoyed Wynne's cooking. She'd just finished scrapping the bowl clean when Alistair cleared his throat and set his mostly untouched meal down.

"It's great that we have the support of the mages, but we've also got a whole lot more to do to be ready for the Blight. We lost a big battle at Ostagar, but the losses we inflicted on the Darkspawn were not insignificant. It was too earlier in the development of the Blight for that kind of engagement. In a conservative estimate, I would say that it will take them several months to amass a force large enough to overtake Ferelden. Ostagar was a nightmare for us, but winning it must have taken a huge commitment of force for the Archdemon."

Kallian felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of the Archdemon. For the past few weeks, the monstrous form of the creature had appeared in her dreams and left her gasping in terror. Though Alistair had explained the nature of their enemy, she still couldn't comprehend the fact that something like that could exist. Even thinking about its putrid skin and milky eyes made her want to throw up the meal she had just eaten. Wanting to push away the feeling, she focused twice as hard on what Alistair was saying.

"We have to use every moment we have left before the invasion begins. I've been giving it a lot of thought in the past few days, and I think our best bet is to travel to Orzammar and speak with the Dwarves. It's less than four day's travel from here if we move quickly." He rubbed his hands together. "More to the point, the Dwarves represent a tremendous economic and military presence in Ferelden. Having their forges and warriors behind us would make me feel a lot better about our chances."

Leliana spoke up from beside him. "How can we be sure they will not simply turn us over to Loghain? In my experience, the Dwarves care for only one thing: the preservation of their trade lines. Aiding us might cause their most important trade partner to abandon their relationship. It would be enough to make them considering murdering us all and pretending like we never brought the treaty to their door."

"I won't say it isn't a possibility, but I cannot help but think it is unlikely." Wynne pursed her lips. "The Dwarves pride themselves on their honor and on their neutrality. Killing or betraying us to Loghain would violate both of those virtues. Furthermore, Loghain can't issue an embargo on Orzammar; Ferelden's economy would be devastated within days. He needs the Dwarves even more than they need him."

"I'm inclined to agree with Wynne on this one; with the treaty and the Dwarves insistence on isolationism, I think we're safe." Alistair mused.

Kallian idly flicked her knife between her fingers as she watched the group discuss their next move. In all honesty, she mostly kept silent because she didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound completely stupid. Without a proper education or any real knowledge of the world outside of Denerim's slums, she was perhaps the least qualified to decide what they do next. Much as he had seemed unsure of himself at first, Alistair was definitely the one who should be doing the thinking and planning on their little adventure. Feeling mildly depressed, she spun the knife on the back of her hand and watched the blade flash in the firelight.

"What do you think Kallian?"

Startled, she jerked and fumbled the blade off into the dirt. Morrigan gave her an accusatory look and Kallian realized the knife had very nearly sunk into the witch's foot. Glancing up to where Alistair was watching her expectantly, she leaned down and plucked her weapon out of the dust. "Sure, sounds great."

He frowned and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he seemed to think better of it and just cast his eyes around the rest of the group. "So, how about the rest of you? Is there anything else you think we need to consider before settling on Orzammar as our next destination?

"It is as good a place as any." Sten rumbled. "But I wonder Warden, how do you plan on winning your own people over to your side? Elves, dwarves, and mages are well and good, but they are not the dominant force in this land. You will need your kinsman if you want to survive."

It was the most he had ever said at one time, and Kallian watched Alistair curiously as the ex-Templar nodded while thoughtfully chewing on his lip. "It's a good question Sten, and I've been trying to think of a good answer for a while now. There is an ally I can call upon at Redcliff who may be the answer we're looking for. However, if that has any chance of succeeding, we will need more support than we do right now. Let's see about recruiting the Dwarves and then we can cross that bridge."

For a long moment, Sten simply stared at Alistair with his usual expression of stoicism. Then, the giant titled his head in acceptance and bent down to heft the black bear onto his shoulders once more. In a frightening display of strength, he lifted the heavy carcass with a grunt. Apparently finished with the conversation, he turned and strode off to his sentry point.

As if that were some kind of signal, everyone began to stand up and move about as they took care of various tasks. Tired but not quite ready to sleep, Kallian took the time to help Leliana and Wynne clean the dishes and cooking pot. Thankfully, Alistair deigned to pour out the water that Sten had sullied so that he could fetch another. That he did so with thoughtless ease provoked a glimmer of illogical anger in her breast.

Finally, when all of the various camp chores were done, Kallian bade them good night and made for her tent as a crushing weariness settled over her. She hadn't gotten more than a few steps before Alistair called out to her.

"Hey Kallian…could I talk to you for a minute?"

She mentally groaned and turned to see Alistair standing near the fire with his hands at his sides. "I'm tired Alistair, can it wait?"

"No, no it really can't." He gave significant glance in the direction of Wynne and Leliana. "You mind if we speak over there?"

Putting aside her fantasies of a warm bed for a while, Kallian followed Alistair as he lead them across the small clearing to an area that was far enough away that they wouldn't be overheard by anyone. Alistair came to a halt and faced her with a smile that was ruined by the fact that he looked like he was about to be physically ill. Confused, she watched him with a raised eyebrow as he stared at her without saying anything. Just as she was about to complain about him dragging her out here for nothing, he shuffled his feet and then spoke.

"Um…well, do you remember the Tower? Well of course you do, but I'm talking about the part where we got put into the Fade by the Sloth demon." He seemed jumpy.

"Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

"Do you remember your dream at all? The rest of us remember ours."

She shrugged. "Nah, just fell asleep and woke up the next instant. Is that was this is about? If it is, you seriously need to reevaluate what can and cannot wait."

Alistair frowned and waved her down impatiently. "No, there's more to it alright? Look, when Morrigan and I went into your dream, it was different from the other ones. From what she said, it wasn't even really a dream in the true sense of the word. It was like we were in your subconscious or something."

"So?"

"You're not making this any easier." He shook his head. "Look, we were in your mind and we were trying to search for you without much luck. After a bit, Morrigan comes up with this idea to look for you in a place that's really personal and then she had me build a doorway deeper into your brain."

Kallian stared at him and briefly wondered if his little trip into the Fade hadn't scrambled his brains. Alistair wasn't behaving like himself, and Kallian briefly wondered why he thought any of this was worth telling her about. It was like having someone else describe their dream to you; fascinating for them, boring for you. The abomination had been a weird part of the day, but it was in the past and they had a bunch of stuff to do. "Alistair, this is interesting and all, but can we please talk about it in the morning when I'm not so bushed?

"No!" He startled her with the sudden shout and he seemed to know it. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I just can't keep this inside any longer ok? Can you just bear with me a moment alright?"

She nodded slowly. "Alright, go on."

"Ok where was I? Right, so we are in this deep part of your subconscious and there are these doors and Morrigan tells me we need to enter them to find you." He was speaking quickly and articulating his words with too much precision. He was nervous. "She says we should split up and search the separate doors because that would be quicker. So she goes in this one door and I have to go into another. When I get in there I see your memory."

"My memory?" Kallian frowned at him.

A heavy sigh burst out of him in a rush. With a visible effort, Alistair calmed himself down and ran one of his hands through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was tired and he spoke in a low tone. "When I went into the room I saw one of your memories. I saw what happened to you Kallian. I saw what those men did to you."

It took a moment before the full impact of his words could settle on her. When they did, Kallian felt her mouth go dry. "W-what?"

"Maker, I'm so sorry Kallian."

She didn't know what to do. Her body felt cold but her face and ears were burning. Like an oncoming tide, the familiar clawing sensation of panic began to settle in her throat. Desperately wanting to sit down but seeing nowhere to do so, she simply stood there and shook her head while she stared at the dirt below her. A hand settled on her shoulder and she looked up to meet Alistair's face. Though she could see his lips moving, she couldn't make out what he was saying over the pounding beat in her head.

"Shut up…j-just shut the fuck up Alistair."

Pushing his hand off her shoulder angrily, she glared at him with eyes that felt rough and hot. He had _no_ right to know that. No one in the world could know about that. Having him stand there with pity in his eyes was more than she could stand.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry Kallian I know that must be one of the hardest—"

"You don't know _shit_ Alistair"

With every word, her voice rose as the anger swept over her in a wave of heat and pain. Even though she could see Wynne and Leliana looking up from the campfire, she couldn't bring herself to calm down. This wasn't something she could control anymore.

He nodded as he watched her with that same damn sadness in his gaze. "You're right; I don't know what I'm talking about. There's no way for me to understand what that must have been like for you. But that doesn't mean I don't want to help you."

"Help me!" A ragged, hysterical laugh tore its way from her throat and she saw him wince "How the fuck are you supposed to help me when you can barely take care of yourself? You think we don't notice Alistair? You're just pretending like you know what the fuck you're doing!"

A flicker of hurt past over his eyes and he took a small step back from her anger. She was outright screaming at this point and there was no way that their companions could miss what she was saying. Kallian knew she had lost control, but all she wanted to do right now was hurt Alistair in whatever way she could.

"You need to calm down." A tension was stiffening his shoulders.

"Why, is it making you uncomfortable? Too sodding bad Alistair," she stabbed a finger into his chest. "You're the one who wanted to help me."

"I'm just trying to do the best that I can. It's what Duncan would have wanted me to." His hands were clenched at his sides.

She gave another bitter laugh. "Right, because Duncan had so much faith in you. He had so much faith that when it came time to fight, he had you run off to light a fire so you couldn't fuck things up too badly! He's probably turning in his grave right now."

"You're angry, you don't mean that." She could tell he was saying it more to himself than to her. Angry red splotches had appeared in his cheeks and his teeth were clenched hard enough that balls of muscles jutted from either side of his jaw line. "Duncan had us do that because it was important. It was a crucial part of the battle and it was part of his plan."

"His plan? What part of his plan involved indulging a king and getting an army killed?"

Alistair glared at her "Kallian—"

"Duncan was a fool and he got what he deserved!"

Her back slammed into a nearby tree in a movement that was so fast she barely followed it. Alistair's hands gripped her upper arms tightly and his face was dark with anger as he came down to her eye level. His voice was a hiss as he annunciated every word carefully.

"Take…It…Back."

Alistair was too close and his grip was lifting her slightly off the ground. Another surge of panic fought its way through the rage and suddenly she was having trouble getting enough air. Desperate, she reared back for leverage and headbutted him in mouth. His grip loosened and he staggered back with a hand clapped across his lips. Darting away from him, Kallian whipped a hand to her lower back only to find that she had left her knife back by the campfire. It didn't matter; she wanted to fight this man with or without a weapon. Her body felt light and all her anger sharpened to a thin point inside of her. In front of her, Alistair raised his head and glared at her.

From somewhere close by, a faint buzzing sound rose up around her.

Then, all of a sudden, Leliana was between the two of them with her arms outstretched. The bard's face was uncharacteristically hard as she swiftly snapped her head back and forth between the two of them. "What in Andraste's name is the matter with the two of you? Stop this!"

Kallian was breathing hard and her nails bit deeply into the palms of her hands as she glared at the two of them. On the other side of Leliana, Alistair slowly stood up straight and brought his hand away from his mouth. He spat onto the ground in front of him and stared right at Kallian "You deserve yourself."

With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk back to camp. As he passed by her small fire, Morrigan muttered something to him that Kallian couldn't quite catch. Whatever it was, Alistair ignored it as he stormed off. Deprived of her target, Kallian felt the anger disappear and the panic returned in full force. Noticing the change, Leliana reached out a hand as if to touch her. Gasping as her throat began to lock up, Kallian batted Leliana's hand away and practically fled into the forest behind her.

As she pushed blindly through branches and the underbrush, she heard Leliana calling after her. It didn't matter, all she needed right now was to be as far away from other people as she could possible get. An indeterminable amount of time later, she crashed onto all fours and clutched at her collar as she tried to breath. For a few terrifying moment, she couldn't get any air and colorful spots exploded in her vision. It had been over a week since her last panic attack. She'd blamed them on Darkspawn nightmares when Alistair had noticed one morning.

_He knew_

Kallian punched the ground and gulped air as the pressure on her neck and chest finally eased. Suddenly weak, she simply collapsed on her side and lay against the cold earth while she recovered. As though a sieve had been loosened, hot tears began to spill down her cheeks. Roughly pawing at her eyes, she levered herself into a sitting position and hugged her legs tightly to her chest. Though she tried to stop it, it wasn't long before she was outright sobbing to herself in the dirt.

That someone else knew her secret was something she just couldn't handle. Her last piece of security had been the private knowledge that only she knew about what had happened back in Vaughan's estate. It hadn't made it any better, but at least no one else had known that four men had held her down and raped her on her wedding night. So long as it had just been her, no one had talked about it or looked at her like Alistair had looked at her.

Now though, Alistair knew what had happened and thought made her sick inside. Worse, he had _seen _her like that. Shame and impotent angry rushed over her and she clenched her eyes tightly against the steady stream of tears. If he knew, there was a chance that the others knew as well. After the way they had just fought, she wouldn't be surprised if he told everyone out of spite. She couldn't go back to camp and face that possibility; so she simply curled up against a tree and stared off into the darkness of the trees.

When she had first joined up with Duncan, she had told herself that she was stronger than all of this. She had told herself that it was a temporary pain, that a few weeks and some adventure would chase it out of her mind. Most of all, she had told herself that Vaughan and his cronies could never hurt her again.

She'd lied to herself.

* * *

Alright two quick things: Alistair is OOC but then again, I've made him OOC since the third chapter or so. My feeling is that the extra stress of being a leader and Duncan's death might be enough of a catalyst for him to lose control for a moment. I plan to explain his feelings a little more in the future. Lastly, the subject of rape is a serious one and it has the potential to become unsuitably melodramatic. If anyone notices that I'm being too cavalier about it at any point, I'd appreciate them saying so.

Thanks again for reading!


	11. An Ugly Fact of Life

A/N: Story behind this chapter: it was originally part of four short stories from multiple perspectives that I intended to post as one chapter. They were all written before I even posted the last chapter, but I had to put them together and beta them. After I read over it, I found that the other three parts just didn't work at this point in the story. So, I removed them and then revised and expanded this little section to make it into a little baby chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, there were some very interesting comments about the last chapter and I appreciated that you all took the time to write in. Hope you like it!

Chapter 11: An Ugly Fact Of Life

Near Lake Calenhad

_We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon each other our follies-_Voltaire

* * *

It had not gone well.

Ever since he had come out of the Fade, Alistair had been looking for the right time and way to tell her about what he had seen. For the last few hours, he had rehearsed what he was going to say and had actually felt pretty confident that it wasn't stupid. Then, he had gotten her alone and everything had come out muddled because he had been so nervous. Next thing he knew, she had gotten angry and starting screaming at him.

From there, things had really plummeted. Alistair hadn't expected her to thank him for prying into her mind, but he defiantly hadn't been prepared for her reaction. He should have been able to handle anything she said, but her comments about Duncan's death had been a step too far. Even now, he still felt the glimmering echo of the anger that had coursed through him at her words. It had been a terrible mistake to grab her, but she had just made him so damn angry.

Still, it was definitely the headbutt that was the tipping point. If she hadn't hit him, Alistair had a feeling that they could've chalked the conversation up to a simple failure. With the headbutt though, the entire thing had really become more of a catastrophe.

He was glad that Leliana had broken the two of them apart when she did. Kallian had wanted to fight and Alistair had been upset enough to indulge her. With another man, a fight like that might have blown off some steam and possibly even strengthened the friendship. It's an odd quality, but sometimes all two people needed was the chance to punch each other for a few minutes. Without quite knowing why, he had instinctively known that wouldn't have happened with Kallian. One or both of them would've gotten hurt, and there wouldn't have been much room for forgiveness. It had taken some doing, but he had managed to swallow his anger and walk away.

After a petulant half hour spent throwing rocks into the river, Alistair had went back to find that most of the others had gone to sleep already. The only one who was still up was Leliana as she had drawn the first watch for tonight. With a hurried explanation that he wouldn't be sleeping much anyway, he had offered to take her place. The Orlesian woman had thanked him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before heading over to her tent. Resolved to wait for Kallian to return, he had taken a seat by the fire and pulled out the piece of wood he had been carving over the last three days.

It helped to past the time, and three hours later found him in much of the same position. He had discovered his talent for woodcarving by accident a few months into the Templar training. As with anything enjoyable, the hobby had been frowned upon by the Chantry and he had been reprimanded on several occasions for engaging in "frivolous nonsense". Naturally, it had then become his favorite way of rebelling, and he had dedicated himself to it with a passion.

Truth be told, he was much better with a hunk of soapstone than he was with wood. Whenever he was using wood, he had a tendency to misjudge the durability of the material and cause it to crack when he worked on the more delicate parts of his figurines. Just before Duncan had recruited him, he had actually managed to sell a small stone sculpture of a wyvern for an entire sovereign. It had easily been the proudest accomplishment of his life up until that point.

Ruefully, he brushed a few shavings off the carving in his hand and turned it about to study it in the dying light of the fire. In a different life, he could have probably lived very happily as a craftsman of who never fought demons or the like.

He frowned as he cast a discreet glance around the unbroken tree line that surrounded the clearing. It was possible that Kallian had returned to Lake Calenhad to stay the night at the inn. They were only a few miles away from the docks, and she had been gone for nearly four hours. He was beginning to hope that was what she had done; the temperature had dropped considerably in the last few hours. A tendril of worry was beginning to creep through the layers of determination and persistent anger that kept him waiting for her. During winter in Ferelden, anyone could die from exposure even if they knew what they were doing.

With a sharp shake of his head, Alistair tried to return to his carving but found that he was just staring at it mindlessly. Not for the first time, he wished that Duncan was here to help him get through all of this. Duncan would've known where to go, what to say to Kallian, and how to deal with all that had happened. Duncan had been a leader.

Alistair pushed down the flash of pain that went through him at the thought of the man who had been like a father to him. Much as he'd like to just break down and grieve for what he had lost, Alistair knew that he would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he had to remain focused on what lay ahead of him.

A crackling noise in the underbrush was the first indication he had that something approached. Taking the risk that it wasn't a bear coming to avenge its friend's death, Alistair kept his eyes on the wood as he carefully shaved off a slender curl with the blade of his knife. Straining his ears, he mentally prepared himself as he heard the light padding of footsteps off to his right. He kept working until long after she had stopped just twenty feet from where he sat. Finally, he slowly set his knife to the side and looked over at her.

Kallian stood just outside of the firelight, a slender silhouette whose features were concealed by the darkness. The only thing he could really make out was the eerily bright gleam of elvish eyes as they reflected the glow of the smoldering embers. Beside her, a massive shadow that could only be the Mabari sat pressed against her legs. Alistair had spent the last few hours thinking about how to handle this, and he had decided to let her make the first move. If she was still looking to fight, he wouldn't let her bait him. If she wanted to apologize, he'd accept it. If she ignored him, he'd wait her out.

He just hoped she wouldn't set the dog on him…he hadn't really planned for that.

"I didn't think you'd be up." Her voice was a harsh rasp the crawled across the space between them. "Kinda wish you weren't."

Alistair said nothing and bent down to pick up his carving once more. He supposed that he should be encouraged by the fact that she didn't sound angry anymore. Like him, a few hours in her own company seemed to have calmed her down enough to for rational thought. Pretending to examine the surface of the wood, he spoke without looking back at her.

"I get it, you're mad at me."

Her eyes glittered. "That wasn't what I meant. I just didn't want to do this tonight."

"You're not mad then?"

"Not at you." She shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm still angry, but I know I shouldn't be mad at you. You're an idiot, but you didn't deserve that."

Despite himself, Alistair felt his lips curl up. "Is that an apology?"

"It's a start isn't it?"

Alistair nodded his head slowly and leaned back to sit more comfortably on the small log he rested on. This was more than a good start; it was far beyond what he had hoped for when he had imagined this scenario. "Tomorrow, you and I are going to the conversation we should have had tonight."

"No way in hell Alistair." Her eyes narrowed and her voice became tight. "That's off limits."

He winced and up a hand to stop her. "That came out wrong, what I meant is that we should just have a regular conversation like any two other people in this world. It doesn't have to be about that, in fact I'd prefer it if it was about something else. You can ask me about my past or we can talk about how the hell we're going to survive all of this. I don't care really, just so long as we can agree to have a talk about something after we make camp tomorrow."

A small silence fell over the two of them and Alistair kept it from becoming uncomfortable by focusing on the carving in his hand. He did a poor job of it, as his next cut was too deep and he botched a portion of would eventually become a leg. With a sad look, he turned it from side to side and tried to figure out if it could be fixed. Across from him, the elf watched him work and he very nearly ruined another slice when she spoke.

"Why?"

He sighed. "So many reasons, but mainly because you were right about me. I don't know what I'm doing, but I do know that I can't do it alone. Like it or not, you're one of the last two Gray Wardens left in this entire country. I'm going to need your help Kallian. It isn't enough for us to be a bunch of strangers working together towards the same goal."

Alistair paused a moment to let her speak if she wanted to, but Kallian said nothing. "The Gray Wardens are strong because they are a brotherhood and can rely on each other when their own strength isn't enough. Even if we can't become friends, I need to know that you're someone I can trust when the time comes. Right now, I know more about Wynne than I do about you and we've been travelling together for nearly a month."

"You didn't see enough when you poked around in my mind?" An edge of some emotion he couldn't identify sharpened her tone.

"I saw a moment…one horrible moment in your entire life." He stared directly at her. "Now, is that really the only thing you want me to know about you? Look Kallian, it was stupid of me to spring that on you earlier, but I meant what I said. This isn't the type of thing you can just carry around with you forever; you're going to need help at some point."

"I can take care of myself."

"Pushing everyone away isn't taking care of yourself." He waved a hand expressively. "In fact it's probably hurting you more than anything else. Aside from that, it's damn important that we start to get to know each other better. Look, do you remember what we talked about when we were in the Wilds? I stand by that, there is absolutely nothing in the world more important than stopping the Darkspawn from winning."

"You think talking will keep that from happening?" A note of skepticism touched her voice.

Alistair fell silent and stared into glowing embers as he thought of how to respond. "What I think is that having a few conversations with another person can't hurt you in the slightest. I think that it's about time that the two of us started working together instead of just being on the same side. I think that we both screwed up tonight and that we have to account for that."

A log collapsed in the fire pit and a burst of sparks shot up to vanish into the night's air. Rather than look at her as he waited for her response, Alistair simply folded his hands in front of him and stared down between his knees. Just as he was beginning to grow anxious, Kallian spoke.

"Ok, we'll talk."

Alistair fought to keep the smile off his lips as he looked up to meet the elf's shining eyes. "Great, I'm looking forward to it."

For a few moments, the air was filled only with the faint pops and crackles of the fire. Seeing that it was dying, Alistair leaned forward and placed a few fresh logs over the coals. A moment or so later Kallian spoke softly. "About what I said about Duncan earlier…you know I didn't mean that right? I didn't know him all that well, but he always did right by me. I was just trying to get you to back off and…well I'm sorry ok?"

"Well, how about we call it even for me grabbing you?" He rubbed his lip meaningfully. "I think you still owe me for the headbutt though."

A weak sound of amusement floated over from where she stood. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"It's gotten pretty cold out." He gestured to the log that was closest to where she stood. "How about you warm up a bit before you get some sleep?"

Kallian hesitated for a brief moment before she stepped into the firelight and walked over to where the flames burned. To his surprise, she sat down on a rock that was closer to him than the log he had indicated. After she'd taken a seat, Alistair gave her a sidelong glance as he fiddled with his carving. In the flickering glow, she suddenly seemed very young as she sat rubbing at her eyes in an overly large cotton shirt. He frowned slightly as he realized she couldn't be much older than eighteen or so. It was difficult to associate the hardened and vicious woman he knew with the girl who sat next to him. That was Denerim however, people either grew up fast or they never got the chance to.

He sighed and smothered the impulse to say something else about what he had seen in the Fade. Being forced to see her rape had been awful. Even when he had closed his eyes and covered his ears, Alistair had found himself incapable of blocking it out. When it had finally ended and he had made it back out to Morrigan, Alistair had privately resolved to help Kallian somehow. He was pretty sure he hadn't succeeded, but this felt like a step in the right direction.

After a few minutes of not speaking, Kallian stood up and looked over at him. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Are you good to keep watch?"

"I'll be heading in a few to find someone to relieve me. It's going to be a long a day tomorrow."

She nodded and turned to leave, but only took a few steps before she paused to look over her shoulder. Even in the faint light, Alistair could read her nervousness in her body language. "Alistair, the others…do they know about it?"

"You mean did I tell them?" He shook his head. "Of course not."

She hesitated for a moment before moving off in the direction of her tent with her dog loping after her. As soon as he was sure that she was gone, Alistair let out a breath and leaned back from his hunched over position. It hadn't gone perfectly, but that was the type of interaction he should have had with her this evening. For the first time since Ostagar, he felt confident that he had done the right thing in the right way.

He wondered how Duncan would've gone about and handled something like this. If he had known about Kallian, Duncan would have been able to help her in a way that would have won her absolute loyalty or something. All Alistair had managed to do was convince her to talk with him at some later point. Still, it was nice that they had apologized to each other; Arl Eamon had always told him that no one should go to bed angry.t

He stood up and yawned mightily. It _would_ be a long day tomorrow, and he would have to wake one of the others up for watch if he wanted to get any sleep tonight. Tomorrow would probably be miserable, but at the very least he could go to bed knowing that he had made a little progress with Kallian. The pain and lingering resentment from the argument were still there, but that was something they could work out at a later time. For now, he was too tired to be anything but relieved.

Before he went off to rouse Morrigan, he tossed the half carved figurine into the fire.

That was for a different life.

* * *

Alright, bridges being burnt and mended in record time in this story. I went for the two of them coming to a sort of wary agreement, but I think it might have just come off as the two of them being too tired to fight. I swear, everyone is this story is always tired and hungry. I gotta start writing this during the daytime or something.

Next chapter will have Zevran, and to let you know where my priorities are, I've only written the fight scene at this point. I'm aiming for gritty violence, might come off as just icky.


	12. Cruiserweights

**A/N**: I don't have too much to say about this chapter, other than I had an absolute blast writing it. So please, enjoy.

Chapter 12: Cruiserweights

Northern Ferelden

_"I'd rather be myself. Myself and nasty. Not somebody else, however jolly."- _Aldous Huxley_  
_

* * *

The rains had finally come to Ferelden.

They were an irrevocable certainty of winter; weeks or even months of constant rainfall that drowned the fields and sent the rivers spilling over their banks. Given enough time, the steady downpour would leech all the color out of the surrounding landscape and turn the packed dirt roads into soupy masses of mud. It was the cold, persistent curse of Ferelden and all anyone had to look forward to was the snow that would follow in its wake.

Her oilskin pulled tightly against her narrow shoulders, Kallian peered out at the dreary morning from beneath her hood. It had been four days since the Tower, four long and miserable days of slopping along the back roads of northern Ferelden as they made their way towards the Dwarven city of Orzammar. Their progress had been slow, the rain had soaked into their gear and made everything that much heavier to lug around. It hadn't helped their moods either; everyone seemed subdued and withdrawn as they trudged along in silence.

She cast a look over her shoulder to where the rest of the party trailed a good four hundred yards behind her. Though she was ostensibly scouting for any ambushes on the road, Kallian had a hard time imaging the bandit desperate enough to venture out with the weather like this. It did give her a little time in her own company, something that was becoming all too rare lately.

A few feet in front of her, Boss trotted along the roadside with the kind of oblivious good cheer that only a dog could possess. He had been running about for most of the morning, and great gouts of steam burst from his mouth with every panting breath. Hours spent digging in the mud and chasing after terrified wildlife had left him mud splattered despite the steady shower of rain. All of this after Wynne had endeavored to clean him a few days earlier.

She smiled when he looked back at her with a doggy grin; she would miss him when the time came.

Her ears twitched at a sudden sound and she turned to see Leliana more or less melt out of the trees on her left side. The bard gave her a cheerful smile as she padded over and began to walk with her. Kallian flicked her a suspicious look. "What were you doing out there?"

"I was growing a bit bored listening to Morrigan compare everyone to various farm animals, so I thought it might be nice if I could find us a rabbit for dinner." She paused and glanced over at Kallian. "Also, Alistair asked me to check on you at some point."

Kallian fought to keep her irritation off her face as she made a noncommittal grunt. Over the last few days, Alistair had driven her half-mad with his concerned talks and awkward discussions about their pasts. It was getting to the point where she was developing a negative physical reaction to the words "we should talk". They usually meant a good hour of dodging questions and changing subjects while trying to think an excuse for how to cut the whole thing short.

To be brutally honest, it was utterly infuriating and strained what little patience she possessed. Still, every time she was in danger of losing it and telling him to sod off, she just took a deep breath and reminded herself of what Slim Couldry had told her back in Denerim: the first rule to a good con was keeping the mark happy. After all, a happy mark was an easy mark.

"I'll bet he did." She sighed as her boot sunk several inches into a particular sloppy piece of road. "Damn it…it's weather like this that keeps me from believing in a loving Maker."

Leliana giggled. "Is that so? Well, some in the Chantry believe that the Maker only truly shows himself through adversity. They say that it is easy to thank to Him for good fortune, but far more difficult to trust in His wisdom in times of hardship. So, perhaps this weather is the Maker's way of testing our resolve."

"Yeah, and maybe he's just pissing on us and laughing."

"Ah, and you pretend to know nothing of theology." Leliana teased. "I assure you, there are plenty of very angry old women in the Chantry who would be quite happy to tell you about how the Maker wants us all to suffer and repent for the corruption of the Golden City. I'm sure you would fit right in."

Kallian snorted. "Maybe not, they never really appreciated me when I showed up to services as a kid. Still, you're one to talk; I can't see someone like you fitting in at the Chantry."

"Hmm…what exactly is meant by 'someone like me'?" Leliana arched one delicate brow.

There were probably a dozen witty things she could have said in response to that. Maybe just an offhanded comment about how it would have been confining for someone who had been a bard for so long. Instead, what came blurting out of her mouth was the truth. "You know, a beautiful and charming woman like yourself."

It may have been the wrong thing for her to say, but Kallian couldn't bring herself to regret it. Sure, it was a tad risky and probably inappropriate, but it was the type of thing she would have said before her recruitment into the Grey Wardens. Even if Leliana took it the wrong way, for a small moment, Kallian felt like herself again.

Thankfully, a slow smile spread across the other woman's lips. "You flatter me, but I'm afraid you are misinformed. There were a remarkable number of beautiful and vivacious young acolytes back in Lothering. They were all very dedicated to their vows, and their virtue only served to draw more interest from the male parishioners."

"What do you mean?"

"I suppose that I'm speaking of the mysterious allure of the forbidden fruit." Leliana spoke in a conspiratorial tone, as though she were spreading gossip at a fancy party. "Everyone has a keen desire for that which they cannot possess. You must have felt that way at one point, no?"

Kallian blinked. "Well…yeah, I'm a thief."

"Yes, but wanting something and coveting something are not quite the same in my opinion. To covet is to desire beyond the scope of possibility or morality. A man who covets that which is forbidden sees the veil of chastity, but only thinks about what it may conceal. After a time, that speculation becomes quite intoxicating in its own right."

"Uh, you seem to have given this a lot of thought." Kallian wiped some rainwater off her cheek.

"Perhaps, but then again I was a bard for many years. Desire has long been one of the most useful tools at our disposal" Leliana made a noise of consideration. "Actually, all of this reminds me of a passage from one of my favorite authors from back in Orlais. Would you care to hear it?"

"Sure, why not?

"It is from a collection by Nicolas Fouquet entitled _Epistles of a Lover_, and I'm afraid it was rather unappreciated when it first debuted. It is a series of letters directed at a dear friend of his sister, a woman for whom he held a great deal of affection despite her being a Sister of the Chantry. Now then, how did this go?"

Leliana smiled slightly and began in a voice that was more of a purr than anything else. _"My love, to explain to you my deepest affections, I would have you consider the peach tree that supplicates itself beneath your window. If a man is satisfied by the easiest of acquisitions, it is no great trouble to grab hold of one of the ripened fruits that have fallen from the shady boughs. However, if a man looks higher into the branches, he will gaze upon the singular fruit that hangs proudly above the others. A man who sees such a thing can no longer be satisfied by the bruised and indulgent fruits beneath his feet. No, that man must instead climb the tree and risk plummeting to ground below."_

"_When I see that fruit my love, my head is lost in wild fantasies. Deliriously, I wish to pluck that fruit from its clingy branch and hold it close to my breast. I wish to stroke long fingers along its soft skin, and trace the delicate crease that I would find there. A baser man than I would bite into that fruit with abandon, thus spoiling the experience in his excitement. I however, wish to nibble, lick, and sample until the sweetest of nectars carves a trail along my lips. Then, with my most unworthy tongue, I would taste of perfection until I could bear the pleasure no longer. Tell me in naked truth my love; is such a thing not worth the additional toil and hardship? I think it is so, but until that fruit touches my lips, I will dream and beg of sweeter things."_

Leliana finished her recitation with a kind of breathy sigh that caused Kallian to stumble as she tripped over her own feet. Her mouth inexplicably dry, Kallian cleared her throat too loudly. "Whoa…erm…t-that's a nice book."

"Yes, Fouquet was a remarkably passionate man. To a fault I'm afraid; he was briefly imprisoned for public exposure of more than one occasion." Leliana gracefully stepped around a puddle in the middle of the road and gave Kallian another small smile. "Does that help to explain what I mean? It certainly makes one look at peaches in a new way."

Shaking her head to regain focus, Kallian shrugged. "I dunno, I've never seen one myself. I've always been more of a strawberry kind of girl."

"Strawberries?" Leliana's smile widened to show her teeth. "That's interesting."

"Yeah well I guess I—" She broke off as a flash of movement caught her eye. Pushing her hood off of her head to get a better look, Kallian frowned sharply as she made out a single figure running towards them at a considerable pace. Exchanging a wary look with Leliana, Kallian slipped a flat knife into her hand but kept it concealed as the new arrival drew close enough for them to see it was a young human girl. Bedraggled and dirty, the girl began screaming as soon as she saw them.

"Oh please! You have to help me!"

Kallian held up a hand to stop the girl when she got too close to them. Breathing too heavily to talk to them, the girl just gave them both a desperate, pleading look as she came to a halt. Unsurprisingly enough, Leliana stepped forward with a concerned look. "Shhh…catch your breath, it is alright. What can we do to help you?"

"It's my brother; he's trapped underneath our cart. He tried to fix the wheel, but it fell onto his leg and now he can't get free!" Panicked, the girl pointed in the direction she had come from towards where the road curled around a hill. Kallian's felt her eyes narrow as she realized that they couldn't see what lay beyond the bend.

"We'll do whatever we can to help." Leliana assured the girl with the gentle soothing gesture. "Just give us a moment for the rest of our party to arrive."

"Oh thank you, please hurry!" Without another word, the girl whirled around and tore off back down the road.

Leliana watched her go before turning to Kallian with a grimace. "Weapons?"

"Definitely, this feels like a Smashed Melon to me."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean by that." Leliana bent her bow and strained to fit the bowstring onto the arms.

"It's the name of a con that was popular with a rough crowd back in Denerim. What you would do was have a pathetic looking urchin run out of an alley and tell the mark that their mother was ill or something like that. When the mark goes into the alley to help, someone else drops a big stone onto the mark's head from the rooftops. After that, you just loot the corpse at your leisure."

Leliana gave her an indecipherable look. "You did that?"

"Nah, it was strictly nonviolent crimes for me and my old crew. They're a lot less messy and don't draw much attention from the guards. Still, there were several older boys from the Alienage who were part of a Melon Crew that operated near the riverside. Nasty little fuckers, you had to stay clear of them, they weren't kind to any kid that they caught alone. No one shed any tears when the guards caught up with them and put them to the rope."

"I see, and why do you call it a Smashed Melon?"

"Drop a rock on someone's head and it becomes pretty apparent."

"Ah"

Soon, the sounds of footsteps and armor clanking signaled the arrival of the others. Breaking away from the head of the party, Alistair gave them a curious look as he walked over to talk. "I thought we hadn't planned on stopping until midday. Is everything alright up ahead?"

"Not quite, some girl came tearing around the bend and told us her brother needs help getting a wagon off of his leg. We said we'd take a look once the rest of you managed to catch up." Kallian drew her hood over her hair once more.

"Wonderful," he sighed and motioned for them to move on. "We'll take a look, but keep your eyes open."

Turning her back on him, Kallian whistled for her dog and began to walk once more. A few moments later, Boss came crashing out of the overgrowth to trot alongside her. Her sense of foreboding increased as they rounded the bend and she saw what they were heading into. With the two shallow hills on either side of the pass, this stretch of landscape was more like a miniature valley than anything else. Smack-dab in the middle of the "valley", Kallian could see a broken down cart with the girl standing nearby. True to her word, a young human male was lying beneath the cart wheel with an expression of obvious distress. It didn't do much to set her at ease; this was still an ambusher's wet dream.

Slowing to a halt about a hundred yards from where the girl was now waving to them, Kallian flicked an uneasy look over her shoulder and found herself looking right at Sten. Indicating the cart up ahead with a hand, she shook her head slowly. The giant nodded back at her and loosened his sword from the sheath across his back. Kallian set her mouth into a line, and slowly began to edge into the valley while keeping her ears pricked up for even the slightest of sounds. They shouldn't be doing this; it didn't feel right to her.

Twenty yards later, all of her fears where validated in a rather bittersweet moment. Where once there had been just the girl and her brother, an entire trope of bandits had appeared from seemingly nowhere. Several moved out from where they had been concealed by the cart, and she could see men moving along the hills on either side of them. All told, they were probably up against a score of men who had the advantage of position.

There was a pause, and then as if some signal had been given, the violence began all at once.

With a wave of her hand and a single word that echoed far louder than should be possible, Morrigan sent a small speck of light floating towards the hill on their left. When it struck, a massive ball of fire exploded forth with a deafening roar of superheated air. Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the brilliant holocaust, Kallian fumbled at the broach that held her oilskin in place. She finally pulled the encumbering garment free just in time to meet the first of the bandits that charged her.

The man was eager, but he was in such a haste to stab her that he neglected to consider his footing. He slipped in the treacherous mud and lowered his guard long enough for Kallian to plunge a dagger into the side of his neck. Leaving him to die, she stepped past him and flung an underhanded knife at the next man only to have it clatter harmlessly off the bandit's wooden shield.

Stepping back to avoid a wicked swing of his axe, Kallian eyed the man carefully as he circled around her. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Alistair's loud war cry and what she thought was Morrigan screaming. Belatedly, she realized that her opponent was just stalling long enough for one of his friends to attack her from behind.

Desperate, Kallian tried to back away in order to keep both of the men in her field of vision. Unfortunately for her, the two thugs worked well together, and soon she was being herded towards the far embankment. Just as she was preparing for an undignified scream for help, a loud and very angry howl cut through the air.

From the murk of the heavy rainfall, her dog came hurtling towards the nearest bandit with a powerful leap that carried them both to the ground. The man's scream of fear and pain was abruptly cut off as the Mabari's jaws closed around his face with a horrific crunch. Releasing a startled oath, the other thug raised his axe as if to bring it down on the preoccupied dog.

Unfortunately for him, Kallian hadn't allowed the opening to go to waste. She slammed into him to impede the swing and pushed his shield aside. Before he could gather his bearings, she began to repeatedly stab him in the liver with her blade. The sounds of combat faded away and all she could hear was his labored grunts and the muted "shlicking" sound of her knife going in and out of his flesh. He went limp after a moment and she let him fall.

Lifting his muzzle from his grisly work, Boss gave her a loud bark that sent gore-tinged spittle splattering over her jacket. Wiping some of it off with disgust, she looked over her shoulder and saw the Leliana and Alistair were slowly being pushed back by a group of bandits on the right hill. With a jolt, she realized that Morrigan lay unmoving in a pool of blood at their feet. Grabbing her dog's face, she yanked his head around and pointed to where they were fighting.

"Go help Alistair!"

Woofing loudly, he whirled about and charged off in the direction she had indicated. Just as she was about to follow, some sixth sense made her duck in time to feel something whiz overhead with a hiss. Stumbling slightly in the slick mud as she straightened, Kallian looked about wildly until she saw her attacker.

He was an elf, and Kallian could tell that he was different from the rest of this rabble. The bandit was wearing green leather armor of obvious quality, and the crossbow he held draped over one shoulder was lighter and smaller than anything you could buy conventionally. Furthermore, there was something about the way that he carried himself made her hackles rise up. From the easy way he moved to the lazy smirk on his face, something just told her that this man was trouble.

More than that, the guy didn't look like the type of man who skulked about dirt roads looking to rob travelers. He had deeply tanned skin and long golden hair that suggested at foreign ancestry. If she had to guess, she would say that he was Antivan. His fine-boned features were attractive in a fashion that was more pretty than handsome, and his body was lean in the vein of smaller prizefighters. It was all coming together to form a picture that she didn't quite like. This was no simple thug; he was here for something in particular.

The bandit came to a halt nearby the cart in the middle of the road. He gave his empty crossbow a rueful look before shrugging at her and tossing it too one side without so much as another glance. Easing into a combat stance that she wasn't familiar with, the elf drew a small, leaf-shaped dagger out his belt and motioned for her to attack him.

Her mother had trained her too well for that, so Kallian just readied her own knife and began to steadily move around the bandit to place the cart as his back. Grinning like a fox, the man matched her step-for-step and soon they were circling each other in progressively tighter circles.

When he did move, the bastard moved fast.

Kallian's heart gave a little jump when he closed the distance between them in a flash of green and gold. She twisted to avoid a thrust and very nearly lost an eye when he turned it into a quick slice at her face. Her hand shot forward to grasp his knife wrist even as she tried to bury her own blade in his armpit. The elf caught her forearm long before the blow could land.

Her mother had always said the first rule to a knife fight is to control your enemy's blade. You keep one hand on your knife and the other one remains free to guard and grapple. It was a tricky way to fight, and a miscalculated move was usually a death sentence.

The elf reacted quickly to their small stalemate by planting a kick in her chest. They broke apart and Kallian stumbled back as she tried to keep her balance. She rubbed at the place where he had kicked and narrowed her eyes. He gave a mocking little salute before sliding back into his stance.

They circled again, but this time Kallian took the initiative and darted in with a swipe aimed at his lower torso. He leapt back lightly and forced her to break off pursuit with a wide swing in front of him. They stayed close this time, nervously jerking back and forth as they feinted and gauged the distance between them.

As subtly as she could, Kallian palmed a throwing knife in her free hand as she sidestepped to avoid a cautious slash. When she backed to maintain the distance between them, she whipped the throwing knife forward and sent it whizzing towards his head.

It was an awkward throw and the blade was wide off its mark by a good seven inches. Still, the elf instinctively raised a hand to shield his face and Kallian took the opportunity to thrust at his unprotected side. It was a poor angle and her blade glanced off his armor without drawing blood. Committed to the motion, Kallian couldn't bring up her guard fast enough.

Whipping his forearm to one side, the elf slammed an elbow into her face.

She gasped aloud as her nose broke with a meaty crack. Staggering backwards with her knife hand protecting her face, Kallian blinked through fiercely watering eyes just in time to see the next blow coming. At the last minute, she raised her guard to stop her opponent's blade from finding her throat.

Unfortunately, doing so meant stopping the blade with the flesh of her palm.

A cry was ripped from her throat as the edge of his knife tore into her hand. Lashing out with one foot, she landed a good kick on the man's knee. He gave a small grunt and fell back as he lost his footing in the slick mud. Seizing the opportunity, Kallian danced backwards and began flexing her injured hand to access the damage. Thankfully, she could still move her fingers which meant he hadn't severed any major tendons.

Kallian pulled her hand away from her nose and did her best to regroup as she slid back into her stance. Her palm burned fiercely and her nose was a mess of pain that was now bleeding freely down her front. Across from her, the elf gave another infuriating smirk as he took his time closing the distance between them.

She took a breath to steady herself and lowered her injured hand to the side while bringing her blade up in front of her. Hidden from his view, she made her fingers into a cup and smiled as she felt blood gush from the wound on her palm. Her mother had told her that she might never be the strongest or the biggest dog in the fight, but she could always be the meanest.

The elf darted forward and she threw a handful of her blood into his eyes.

He let out a shocked yell and lurched backwards as he clawed at his face. Carefully avoiding a wild swing of his knife, she moved passed his guard and stabbed him in the abdomen. This time, the armor gave way and the blade sunk several inches into his flesh.

The elf groaned and gripped her wrist as she twisted the blade free. Still blinking to clear his vision, the man raised his knife and tried to bring it down on her. Kallian stepped closer to him and slammed her bleeding hand against his forearm to halt the blow.

With little difficulty, the elf began to bodily push her backwards until she was pressed against the side of the cart. Ignoring her struggles to break free, the man drew back her knife hand and slammed it viciously against the hard wood. Kallian gritted her teeth against the pain, but a few more blows caused her fingers to loosen, and the blade slipped from her grasp.

The man made a small noise of triumph before turning his attention to forcing his own knife towards her throat. Kallian did her best to resist him, but the other elf was stronger and the blade slowly moved in the direction of her vulnerable neck. Though he now pinned her shoulder and upper arm to the cart with his free arm, her hand was unencumbered as she pressed it against his stomach. Painfully aware that time was running out, she groped at his lower abdomen with searching fingers.

"I do not know if it will be a comfort to you," the man spoke with a heavy Antivan accent as he struggled with her. "But know that I will take no pleasure in what comes next."

Kallian gave him a bloody smile as she finally found her target. "No, you sure won't"

With a single sharp motion, she jabbed two of her fingers into the wound her knife had made. Uttering a startled yelp, the elf released her arms and jack-knifed his body away from her fingers. The second she was free, both of Kallian's hands shot up to grasp either side of the elf's head. With a vicious yank, she brought his head down and brutally slammed her knee into his face.

The man's legs gave way and he collapsed onto all fours in a daze. Lips curled in a feral snarl, Kallian reared back and kicked him in the head. The blow spun the man onto his back and he gave a low moan of pain as he weakly writhed in the mud.

She circled around him with a wary caution until she was able to bend down and retrieve her fallen knife. Feeling better once it was back in her hand, she walked over when she saw the man lift his head. He gazed at her with an unfocused expression and raised one hand towards her.

This time, she kicked him in the side of the head and hard enough that he stayed down.

Feeling suddenly weak, Kallian slumped against the side of the cart and tried to breathe the fire out of her lungs. Wincing as she touched her broken nose, Kallian had a mad desire to just sit down and just rest for minute. Eventually, good sense pushed its way into her brain, and she straightened up to go see if the others needed any help. As luck would have it, they found her first.

"Kallian!" Leliana jogged over with a strained look on her face. "There you are. We need lyrium, are you carrying any?"

"Yeah, Alistair loaded me up with a few vials this morning." She cast a look back where she had dropped her pack. "It's over there…why do we need it?"

Leliana immediately began moving towards the discarded pack and Kallian had to scramble to catch up. "Morrigan was badly wounded in the fight. Wynne's with her now, but she says she will need more lyrium if she is to heal her."

Luckily, the slender vials of blue liquid were at the top of her pack and entirely unharmed by her dropping it. Leliana took them wordlessly and rushed over to the base of the hill where Kallian had seen Morrigan earlier. Before following, Kallian bent down to retrieve her discarded oilskin from where she had left it. The slick garment was covered in mud, but she drew it over her shoulders anyway. There really wasn't much point; she was already drenched from ear to toe.

She followed after Leliana and felt a sinking sensation in her gut when she got a good look at Morrigan. Though the witch was conscious, her face was drawn tightly with pain as Wynne moved her glowing hands along a vicious wound in Morrigan's stomach. Kallian stopped several feet away and watched quietly as the other woman's flesh knitted back together with the help of Wynne's magic.

At a loss of what to do, Kallian walked over and stood next to Leliana and Alistair. Given the way Morrigan and Alistair interacted with each other, she was somewhat surprised to see the stricken look on Alistair's face. After a moment, he turned to her and sighed. "I got careless and let one of them past my guard. He managed to get Morrigan with his sword before I could stop him. Stupid mistake really…"

Kallian shifted her feet. "I left one of them alive back there; I think he might be able to clear some things up for us."

Alistair gave a faint nod and went back to watching Wynne work.

By now, the adrenaline from her fight had worn off, and Kallian found herself shivering against the cold sheets of water that fell down around them. It didn't matter though; she would rather be alive and miserable than lying dead in the mud. She could handle a little pain and discomfort if it meant she'd still be walking about by day's end.

A cold little smile spread across her lips as she thought about the unconscious elf bandit she had spared. There were a whole lot of questions she had for him. More to the point, there was plenty a person could do to get the answers she was looking for.

She'd see just how much pain he could handle soon enough.

xxXxx

"So this is him huh?"

Kallian finished tying the knot before she pushed the elf into a sitting position against the cart wheel. Though she doubted the man was much of a threat at the moment, she had still taken the time to bind his hands behind his back. Their fight had been far too close for her liking, and she wasn't inclined to take any chances with this one.

"Yep, doesn't really look like your typical bandit, does he?" She lightly slapped at his face, but the elf remained unconscious.

"Hard to say considering all of the bruises," Alistair stepped closer and peered at their prisoner's face. "Just what the hell did the two of you do to each other? No offense intended, but you look like a mess and he looks a couple degrees worse."

Kallian flicked a glance back at him and tried to decide whether or not to take offense anyway. It was true, in the fifteen minutes that they had spent patching Morrigan up, her broken nose had swelled up and dark bruises had welled up under both eyes. She'd gotten a good look at herself in the reflection of her knife, and the picture hadn't been pretty.

The elf groaned.

It was a small, muffled sound, but it got their full attention. Kallian knelt down until she was at the man's eye level and drew her knife. The elf stirred around a bit before he opened his eyes and gave her a bleary-eyed stare. "Hmmm…I suppose this mean I lost then?"

Kallian punched him; a quick jab directly to his throat that left him choking and gasping.

Alistair made a distressed noise. "Kallian…"

"If you don't have the stomach for this, you can wait over there with Wynne and Morrigan."

She heard him shift around uncomfortably, but Alistair didn't move from his position behind her. It was for the best, she wanted more people around to make the bandit feel uncomfortable, and everyone except Alistair had occupied themselves with setting up a small camp off to the side of the road. It wasn't ideal to stop this early in the day, but Morrigan had been left severely weakened by her healing. Apparently, magic healing took quite the toll on the body after a while.

Kallian grabbed the elf's hair and yanked his head up. "Let's make this easy: you're going to answer my questions. Every time I think you are lying, I'm going to cut out one of your eyes. When you run out of eyes, I'm going to get creative."

"No need for that," the elf was interrupted by a coughing fit. "Whatever questions you have, I will be happy to provide the answers."

One of her eyebrows crept up. "Is that right? Well, how about we start with who you are and why you tried to kill us."

"My name is Zevran Arainai. As for why I tried to kill you…well, I suppose you could say that is what I do. I'm a member of the Antivan Crows, the largest organization of assassins in all of Thedas. A contract was placed on your head, and my employers accepted."

"Who put out the contract?"

"Let me see, a rather dour-looking fellow with black hair." Zevran made a show of trying to remember. "His name was Loghain unless I'm mistaken."

Alistair issued a colorful curse and ran a hand through his hair in a quick gesture. Rocking back onto her heels, Kallian kept her face blank as she toyed with the dagger in her hands. It was the answer that she had expected, but she could see why Alistair would be upset. Being labeled a traitor was one thing, having assassins sent after you was another thing entirely. Whatever else they learned from Zevran, they now knew that Loghain was getting serious.

"Not terribly loyal to him are you?" Alistair sounded oddly bitter as he glared down at the elf.

"Why should I be loyal to him? All he did was offer me money to provide a service." Zevran shrugged as best as he could in his awkward position. "Having failed to complete the assignment, I cannot help but feel that our business arrangement has been terminated. More to the point, he is not the one threatening to cut out my eyes."

Kallian gave him a black smile. "When were you supposed to meet Loghain next?"

"Never, the payment was to be delivered by intermediaries. Doing things in that fashion keeps clients from trying to tie up loose ends by killing the assassin after the job is done."

"Smart"

"We like to think so."

Alistair cleared his throat. "Well, that's pretty much all we needed to know I suppose. Now we just have to decide what to do with you."

He might have meant that to sound threatening, but it came off as unsure and wholly unintimidating. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Kallian glanced at him over her shoulder. "Pretty simple really, we either kill him or leave him here. Killing him would be better. "

"If I may suggest a third option," Zevran gave no indication of being bothered by the subject. "You could always allow me to offer my services to your cause."

"You have to be joking." Alistair sounded nonplussed.

"I am entirely serious, I assure you of that. You must understand: failing to kill you has placed me in a very difficult situation with the Antivan Crows. It is not the type of organization that tolerates failures of any kind. As I was unable to take your lives, the Crows will take mine."

"My heart bleeds for you." Kallian deadpanned.

"Yes, I would imagine that you are not quite as distressed by my failure as I am. However, this difficult situation does present an intriguing opportunity that has the potential to benefit everyone present. You see, if I were to travel with you, I could lend my considerable talents to your cause. At the same time, the Crows would assume that I died here with the others. Thus, I would be free of the Crows and you would have a loyal companion of the most handsome variety."

Kallian frowned in thought as she considered the proposition. The nature of their meeting hadn't done much to foster trust, but she found the indifferent practicality in his voice to be oddly compelling. She then thought that she might try to make the same bargain if she were in his position. It didn't sound like that bad of a deal either; she had seen firsthand that Zevran was plenty dangerous. "That's all well and good, but what's to stop you from slitting our throats and going back to the Crows right after?"

"For one, the Crows would kill me for botching the initial attack as badly as I did." Zevran smiled slightly. "That and I must confess that I really would prefer to stop working for the Crows if possible. I have grown somewhat tired of the lifestyle they provide. I think I am ready for a change and this may be my opportunity to find something better."

"What happens when you find something better than traveling with us?"

Zevran's smile faded. "If you were to spare my life, I would be in your debt. I do not know how it is in Ferelden, but in Antiva this is no small thing. A debt such as that would keep me by your side until you decide that it is repaid."

For a moment, Kallian just stared into his face as she looked for any trace of deception. Then, before she could convince herself that it was a bad idea, she pushed Zevran forward and began to saw at the rope that held his hands behind his back. Predictably, Alistair objected to this.

"Kallian! You can't possibly think that this is a good idea!"

"You said it yourself: all the help we can get." Kallian finished freeing Zevran and stood up. "That's why we're traveling with an apostate and a Qunari that randomly butchered an entire family. We've been collecting a group of people that might betray us at any moment. Plus, I beat him once; I can do it again if he gets any ideas."

Zevran smirked as he slowly stood up. "Not to hurt my own case, but I fear that I had the advantage for most of our fight."

"Yeah, you're better than me with a knife," Kallian locked eyes with the assassin. "You also ended up in the mud. What does that say about the two of us?"

Alistair groaned. "Lovely, you're having a pissing contest. I'm still not entirely sure about this."

"If it helps any," Zevran gave Alistair a smile that crawled with sensuality. "I have been trained in all forms of seduction and pleasure. Some say that it is the one area at which I have no equal."

"Why would that—" Realization dawned in Alistair's eyes. "Oh no, that won't be necessary….that _so _won't be necessary."

"Your loss," Zevran gave a careless shrug and bent down to retrieve his dagger and crossbow. Kallian had gathered them together earlier with the intention of looting them should they have decided to kill the assassin. They were nicely made, and she would have liked to have the dagger at the very least.

"Fine, come on then, I suppose you should be introduced to the others." Alistair began walking in the direction of where the rest of the party had disappeared. "I'll warn you, I can't see Morrigan being too pleased to meet you. Are you coming along Kallian?"

She hadn't made any move to follow them. "I'll be along in a bit."

"Alright, have Wynne take a look at that nose when you do. It's starting to look really bad."

Kallian said nothing as she watched the two of them walk away. The fact that Zevran made Alistair uncomfortable was almost enough of a reason to recruit the assassin by itself. After the amount of shit Alistair had stirred up for her, the man deserved a little discomfort. She felt a surge of anticipation; he'd get plenty more soon enough.

Right now though, her wounds hurt and she felt dirty despite the freezing rain. A hard smile crossed over her lips as she trudged towards the campsite. She had a crazy desire to run into one of the old men who had told such ridiculous stories about the Grey Wardens. To listen to those old bar flies drone on, one would think that the Wardens spent all of their time killing dragons and saving villages. They didn't slop around in the mud or have their noses broken by assassins. No, the Grey Wardens were supposed to be heroes.

Kallian didn't want to be a hero. Heroes sought fame and recognition only to pay for it with six inches of steel in the belly. They were a short-lived breed that somehow compelled fat poets to write songs about glorious death and chivalry. It was a compelling notion however; all people ever remember is how many riches a hero won, or how pretty his buxom maid was. Listen to the stories told by sentimental fools, and a child could come to think that being a hero was the path to wealth and fame. Save a few lives or defeat the dreaded frost troll and soon you could be walking around with horses, swords, butlers, castles, and every other possible luxury the mind could divine.

Fuck all that, Kallian just wanted a towel.

* * *

It is so fun to deal with Zevran. I'm really looking forward to toying with Oghren's chareter. He has an absolute goldmine of a personality.

Thanks to everyone who how has taken the time to read and review. I value all of my reviews (I print them off and create loving paper-mache sculptures of what I think you all look like) and deeply appreciate the outstanding feedback.

Finally, special thanks to chipmouskin who helped me figure out how I wanted the story to progress for the next five chapters or so.

Thanks for reading!


	13. Lull

**A/N: **I never planned on writing this chapter. I had intended to go straight into Orzammar after Zevran's recruitment. However, I had an idea for a scene that compelled me to write a few paragraphs which somehow morphed into a decently sized chapter. Anyway, it ended up giving me a chance to lay the groundwork for a few of the companion's quests as well as smooth the transition into the Orzammar section of the plot. Still, I view this as a lighthearted intermission more than anything else. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 13: Lull

The Gates of Orzammar

* * *

"Stay the fuck away from those packs."

The skinny human jumped at her words before whipping his head around to give her a sullen glare. He had been edging closer to the party's gear for the last few minutes in perhaps the most obvious fashion possible. A consummate amateur, the man had been shooting a nervous glance at her back with every few steps. It couldn't have been more obvious what he had planned if he had walked up to her and announced his intentions. Kallian actually found it quite insulting; no one had respect for the profession anymore.

"I wasn't doin' nothing" He scratched at his balding pate and tried to look indignant.

"Sure, then I suppose you won't mind doing "nothing" somewhere else." She watched him with hooded eyes from where she leaned against a tall signpost. They were in a fairly prominent part of the pavilion, but there was absolutely no reason for the man to be lingering around their packs.

The man sniffed. "I don't need some knife-ears tellin' me where I can stand."

"Whatever, just stay away from those packs." She gave no sign that she had heard the slur. Much as she'd like to introduce this idiot to one of her daggers, Kallian had been told to keep a low profile. People who create corpses tend to also generate attention. For the party's purposes, too much attention would be a very bad thing.

"Yeah? And just what the hell are ya goin' to do about if I don't?" An ugly look was beginning to spread over a face that were already plenty ugly to begin with. It seemed as though this prospective thief had decided on a new approach. "These sods won't lift a finger if ya start hollerin' for help."

He was probably right on that account. The merchants and tradesmen that lurked outside the gates of Orzammar looked like they had far too many problems of their own to waste time worrying about others. They were an odd assortment of the various races and the only thing they had in common was their predicament. More than likely, they'd simply sit on their hands and watch as a crime was committed in front of them. She didn't mind so much, she had spent most of her criminal career counting on the indifference of the common man.

Kallian folded her arms and gave the thief an appraising look. If she had to guess, she would say that he had no more than a day or two in the trade. It wasn't smart to threaten a mark unless one knew with absolute certainty that they had the advantage in a fight. Even if this shitheel thought he could take her, he would still have to contend with the rest of the party. Anyone with a grain of sense should be able to look at the pile of packs and realize that she hadn't carried them here all by her lonesome. No, this was just some desperate moron who figured he try something radical to change his fortunes.

"I won't do anything to stop you." Kallian examined her fingernails with casual disinterest before gesturing at the ground by her feet. "I'd be more worried about him if I were you."

The thief's eyes drifted down to settle on the Mabari that lay nearby. Even though Boss was fast asleep, she could see the man lose a considerable amount of his bluster. Hardly surprising, there weren't many Fereldans who would be willing to face down a war dog. This poor bastard had probably chosen the worst target in the entire pavilion.

"He don't look like much," the man sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "Sure as shit ain't goin' be able to stop me if I press the issue."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll do just fine against a Mabari. Why don't you run off before he tears off your fruits and eats them?"

The man's eyes darted rapidly between her and the dog. For a moment, Kallian thought he was going to do something he'd truly regret. Finally, in perhaps the smartest move he had made all day, he mustered up what little dignity he had left and spat on the stone beneath him. "Ya' best not let me catch you without your doggy, bitch. I'll teach ya a few lessons ya won't be forgettin' any time soon."

He flashed an unpleasant gesture before scurrying off with his tail between his legs. Kallian watched him leave before letting her gaze drift over the miserable little shantytown that surrounded her. As far as she had been able to discern, Orzammar was closed to all guests because of some internal political turmoil. As a result, all of the merchants that had traveled across Ferelden to do business were more or less stuck outside of the massive gates. For most, their fortunes were tied up in the goods that they carried with them. Wholly dependent on the market found within the city, they were now forced to set up camp and wait for the doors to open.

If the problem wasn't resolved soon enough, many of these people would be in serious danger of starving or succumbing to the elements. Even as she watched from beneath her hood, Kallian could see the first snowflakes of winter beginning to fall on the Frostback Mountains. Give it a few more weeks, and this place would be filled with desperate men like the one she had just warded off. For the time being, there was a semblance of order as many of the merchants had set up small stalls in order to hock their wares to other vendors.

While all of that was terribly sad, Kallian was more concerned with how this little hitch was affecting her. If their party couldn't get into Orzammar, it meant that they would be entirely incapable of convincing the dwarven leadership to fight against the Blight. Needless to say, that would be a very bad thing.

Her gaze finally landed on where Alistair and Wynne were still engaged in a heated argument with the guards at the gates. Since the last time she had looked, the argument had escalated from wild gesturing to what appeared to be red-faced shouting. As she watched, a second group of humans seemed to be on the verge of joining in on the fracas. It was actually starting to look kind of fun, it might be best if she were to wander over and start waving her knife around.

Lips curling at the thought, Kallian scanned the motley crowd as she searched for the other members of their party. Morrigan was the easiest to spot; she was still reading in the same place that she had been for the last hour. Two days ago, Kallian had given Morrigan the book she had found in the First Enchanter's study. She hadn't really wanted the thing, but one doesn't go into the office of one of the most powerful men in Ferelden and leave empty handed. Anyway, the book had been damnably heavy and she had figured Morrigan could at least put the thing to good use.

As luck would have it, the tome turned out to be the personal spell book of Morrigan's mother. To say that Morrigan had been excited was something of an understatement. No accounting for taste, but Kallian was glad that it made her happy. Damn shame though, if she had known it were that valuable she might have tried to pawn it or something.

She had caught sight of Leliana earlier, but the woman had disappeared as she was wont to do. It was actually pretty impressive, Kallian had spent her life learning how to be overlooked; but even she couldn't vanish as easily as the Orlesian woman. Every time the bard did something like that, Kallian forced herself to remember that Leliana was just as dangerous as the rest of them despite her smiles and pleasant manner. The contradiction between her personality and talents was part of what made Leliana so intriguing to her.

Well, that and the fact that Kallian found her to be profoundly attractive.

Deciding not to dwell on that, Kallian managed to find Zevran next. Though he hadn't given her any reason to regret sparing his life back on the road, she hadn't gotten to the point where she could be around him without putting a hand on a weapon. As if he felt the weight of her regard, the assassin looked up from where he was talking to a pretty human girl and gave her a sly smile. Kallian held his gaze until he turned back to the girl. Zevran was a predator cut from the same cloth as Kallian; it made her nervous but she also found it to be oddly reassuring. At the very least, she could trust herself to predict his actions even if she couldn't trust the man himself.

A flicker of red hair off in her peripheral vision alerted her to Leliana's location. The bard was near one of the stalls and seemed to be in the process of haggling with a merchant over shoes. Shrugging, Kallian frowned slightly as she mentally counted off the members of their party. Unless she was mistaken, she had seen everyone except—

"Warden"

Kallian practically leapt a foot in air as Sten's booming voice sounded from directly behind her. She whirled about and tried to still her suddenly racing heart as she gazed up at the Qunari. "Maker's balls Sten, don't do that!"

Sten stared at her. "You should have been able to hear my approach."

"Yeah, well I was thinking about something." Kallian frowned at him. "Anyway, is there a reason you're sneaking about?"

"I have a favor to ask of you."

Sten moved a step closer so that he loomed a good two feet above her eye level. Kallian craned her neck to look up at him and quietly lamented the fact that everything in this world had to be so damn tall. It would be nice to get into Orzammar and look down on people for a change. "A favor? What kind of favor?"

"Do you recall why I was imprisoned in Lothering?"

"Sure, you murdered a whole bunch of people. It's kind of your defining characteristic."

Sten nodded. "Yes, but do you know why? It was because I assumed that they had stolen something of great personal value. As you know, they did not possess it. However, I have reason to believe that what I am looking for can be found in this marketplace."

"Sounds good, what is it?" Kallian toyed with a lock of hair that had escaped her headband.

"A sword"

"You already have a sword."

Sten made a firm chopping motion with one hand. "It is not the same. The sword that I lost was made for my hand alone. It is a part of me and I would never be allowed to return home without it. If I cannot return to my country, I cannot give my report to the _arishok_. If I do not give the report to the _arishok_, I risk my kin being unprepared for the Blight."

"Sorry…what's an airs hawk?"

"It is pronounced _arishok_. The Ferelden language has no analogue, but the closest translation would be king."

"Oh, well he sounds very important." Kallian gave the qunari a lopsided smile. "Why would it be here of though?"

He folded his massive arms. "When you and the others were in the house of magic, I went looking along the shoreline where I lost the blade. It was not there, but I found a man who claimed to have purchased the rights to loot the sight of my battle. While he did not have my Asala, we did have a conversation in which he told me that a merchant in this area had picked the land clean before selling him the looting rights."

"Well, that's handy. Did he happen to give the merchant's name?"

"No, at that point in our conversation his jaw was broken." Sten's eyebrows drew together. "He was unwilling to give up the name of the merchant for fear of reprisal. I admit that I became overzealous in my pursuit of the issue."

Kallian winced. "I see"

"I've been attempting to locate the man for the past hour. Unfortunately, I do not know where to look. The people I have spoken to have reacted poorly to my questioning. I believe that I have reached something of an impasse. This is why I require your aid."

"I'll do what I can." Kallian pushed off the signpost and cracked her knuckles loudly. "But I have to ask, why me? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I would have figured you'd ask Alistair or one of the others before me."

Sten gave her an unreadable look. "This is more practical. As I am looking for a dishonorable thief, I thought it best if I sought assistance from a dishonorable thief. In my homeland, when one wishes to track a rat, he is well advised to purchase a trained rat to be his instrument. In this instance, you are my tracker rat."

"That may be the most unflattering comparison I have ever heard."

"Yet, it is nonetheless accurate."

Hovering somewhere between amused and offended, Kallian settled on giving the qunari an exasperated look. What was worse than his insulting request was that fact that he was actually right; she did have a pretty good idea of where to look for his sword. Still, if it weren't for the fact that he could quite literally tear her to pieces, she would have probably just told him to sod off.

"Just so that I understand, the qunari train rats…to hunt other rats?"

"Naturally, what else would you train a rat for?"

She blinked slowly before giving a dismissive shrug. "Fine, but I expect to be compensated for my services."

"What coin would interest you?"

"All sorts," Kallian smirked at him. "However, I can't help but notice that bag at your waist smells a bit like cookies."

Sten's face became guarded. "You are mistaken."

"C'mon Sten, I'm not some shem to be fooled. I could pick up a scent like that from a hundred paces away." She tapped the side of her nose with a finger. Wynne had been kind enough to heal it after her fight with Zevran, and now her sense of smell was none the worse for the wear. "I want half of what you got."

"These were hard to come by, I will grant you a forth."

Kallian folded her arms. "Make it a third or you can find yourself a different tracker rat."

Sten glared down at her for just long enough to make Kallian wonder if she was about to get murdered over cookies. Then, the qunari pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. "I wonder, have you ever done anything without some mercenary motivation? You will receive a third in exchange for results."

"It's a bargain, but who is going to look after the packs?"

"The warrior will be sufficient." Sten looked down at the ground to where Boss was snoring in the dirt.

"Alright, just know you're responsible if he sleeps through a theft or something."

Without bothering to check to see if he would follow, Kallian set off and began to weave through the press of people. Instinctively keeping one hand on her money pouch, she made her way over to where the majority of the assembled merchants had set up their stalls. A chorus of shouts and exclamations sounded behind her as Sten bodily forced his way through the crowd. Though many complained, no one seemed willing to make a fuss after they caught a good look at the giant man. Ignoring all of this, Kallian swept her eyes along the gathering as she looked for a likely target.

"What are you searching for?" Sten's voice rumbled over her shoulder.

She didn't spare him glance. "It isn't _what_ I'm looking for; it's what I'm not looking for that's important."

"Hmph, and what aren't you looking for?"

"First off, we don't want any of the dwarves. Most of them are out here because the Assembly won't let them sell inside of the city itself. This means they aren't travelling traders and probably haven't ever been to Lake Calenhad in their entire lives. Furthermore, most dwarves are pretty arrogant about their craftsmanship. They wouldn't have much use for a sword that was made by the qunari. So now we are just looking for a shem."

"Or an elf"

Kallian looked up at him. "How many elves do you see at the stalls?"

Sten paused before he looked around in consideration. Though there was a smattering of elves throughout the ramshackle market, none of them were hocking wares. More than likely, most of them were being employed as cattle drivers or menservants for some of the caravan merchants.

"None"

"Yep, you need capital if you want to be a trader. No one is going to bother financially backing an elf long enough for him to establish himself." Kallian made a clucking sound with her tongue. "Not that they wouldn't have stolen the sword. It's just that they would have pawned it off to someone immediately for fear of getting arrested for illegally possessing a weapon. Plus, they wouldn't have bothered trying to sell phony looting rights. That's the type of bad business that ends in lynching."

"So we are looking for a human. There are many humans."

"Right, but you can discount the ones who have anvils set up. Those shems are tradesmen who travel with the caravans to repair horseshoes and sell whatever they make themselves. If they end up getting a reputation for dealing in stolen weapons, it will seem like they have no faith in their own goods. No, what we are looking for is a trader who sells a variety of wares but nothing too exotic. We don't need someone who looks like they're getting their cloth and spices from Antiva or Rivain."

Sten frowned and peered at the various stalls. "There are several that fit that description."

"So now all we have to do is find the seediest-looking merchant among them. Whoever this guy is, I can guarantee that no self-respective tradesmen would scramble around looting the dead. Just look for the type of guy you want to punch on principle." Kallian's gaze landed on a likely target and she felt a smile creeping along her lips. "Gotcha"

If "slimy" were personified, she had a feeling it would a little like this merchant. The clothes he was wearing must have been of high quality at one point, but hard use and poor hygiene had rendered them threadbare and stained. His narrow, pinched features were marked primarily by a ruddy complexion that clashed with his greasy bundle of red hair. More importantly, the man had the hunched and furtive posture that spoke of overwhelming greed or desperate ambition. Kallian had met his kind before and had never relished the experience.

Sten followed her gaze and let out a deep growl that suggested at impending violence. Kallian placed a hand on his arm and stepped in front of him. "Perhaps I should do the talking, no need to go about breaking jaws if we don't absolutely have to."

"As you say," Sten grunted.

Together, the two of them walked over to the stall of the man she had indicated. Pretending to peruse the man's wares, Kallian poked about the various items without any real interest. The man gave her the cautious glare that all store owners seemed to adopt around elves. Though he was clearly unhappy with her proximity to his goods, the man seemed to be too polite to voice his displeasure. That or the seven-foot giant at her back had instilled an impressive set of manners in the man. After a moment, she looked up and met the man's eyes.

"Hello there, we are looking for something a little unusual." She kept her tone light and carefree.

The man gave her a doubtful look. "I've got unusual, if you've got the coin."

Kallian gave a charming little laugh and drew several sovereigns out of her pouch for the man's inspection. Just as she had hoped, the sight of gold made his eyes widen considerably. As though someone had cast a spell, the man's face transformed into the very definition of an ingratiating smile.

"How may I be of assistance my lady?"

"My friend here is looking for a sword to replace the one he is carrying. I don't suppose you could accommodate him Mr…..?"

"Fayrn is my name. At the moment, I have several swords that would benefit a warrior of his obvious caliber." Fayrn gestured behind him to where a few weapon racks were set up. Kallian twisted her head around and gave Sten an inquiring look. Sten looked over the blades before shaking his head.

Kallian turned back to the merchant and gave a helpless shrug. "I'm sorry, but he has rather discriminating tastes when it comes to weapons. Unless it's made by the qunari, I'm afraid he won't even consider it. A bit ridiculous perhaps, but you try telling him he's being unreasonable."

Fayrn eyes darted up to meet Sten's unblinking stare before quickly moving back to her face. "Err…yes I see. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't help you there. It is rather difficulty to acquire weapons from the islands. I wouldn't even know where to look."

"That's funny, because a man back at Lake Calenhad happened to mention that you might have stumbled upon one at some point." Kallian let her smile drop off her features as she gave Faryn a level stare. It had been a shot in the dark, but she was rewarded with the sight of the blood draining out of the man's face.

"W-who told you that?"

"I don't think my friend ever caught the man's name." Kallian leaned forward slightly. "You have to understand, that sword belonged to my friend and he is very upset about its loss. I'm afraid he might have taken it out on that poor man back at Lake Calenhad."

Faryn licked his thin lips and gave Sten a nervous look. "Look, I didn't know that the sword belonged to anyone. All I saw was a bunch of corpses and a very nice sword. So I took it, ok?"

"No harm done, just hand it over to him and things won't get messy."

"Ah, well that's something of a problem." He gave a jerky shrug. "I may have already sold the blade to someone else."

Kallian's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"I'm not comfortable sharing that information. Buyer confidentiality is one of the many services I guarantee. It would be bad for my business if word got around that I was breaking my customer's trust." Faryn gave them both a meaningless gesture that Kallian supposed was meant to convey his deepest regrets.

"Sten, tear his arms off."

Faryn's eyes bugged out as Sten moved towards him with a growl. "NO WAIT! It was a dwarf in Redcliff! He goes by the name of Dywn. That's all I know, I swear!"

"There now, wasn't that painless?" Kallian gave him a pleasant look.

Though he looked as though he'd like to try tearing the man's arms off anyway, Sten stepped away from the merchant with his massive hands clenched into fists. Heaving a sigh of relief, Faryn gave Kallian a sour look now that death was not looming over him. "Hmph, just don't go telling him I told you, ok? Dywn's the type to take exception to it."

"Is that right?" Kallian raised her eyebrows. "Well. I have a pretty loose tongue. Though now that I think about it, a sovereign or two often helps to keep it reigned in."

For a moment, Faryn just glared at her in impotent rage. Finally, he muttered something unpleasant before reaching into the purse at his waist and drawing out a single gold coin. He threw it down at her feet in disgust. "In case you were wondering, its things like this that make people hate elves."

Kallian bent down to pick it up. "Life's a bitch Faryn."

Motioning for Sten to follow her, Kallian began to work her way through the crowd as they left the disgruntled merchant behind them. Enormously satisfied with herself, Kallian didn't stop until they had reached the place where the party's packs sat undisturbed. Apparently, no one had decided to test how just sound of a sleeper her dog really was. Kallian pocketed the coin she had exhorted from the merchant and turned on Sten to collect her other payment. With a regretful look, Sten handed over a handful of the cookies from his pouch.

"Thank you for the assistance." Sten sounded marginally happier than usual. "I confess I was not expecting you to be as helpful as you were. You are something of a mystery and I was not sure how you would react to my request."

"Me? A mystery? How am I a mystery to you?"

"It isn't obvious? If one did not know any better, one might think you were a woman."

"…"

"…"

"…"

Kallian's eyelid twitched. "You know what Sten? I think we should hang out less."

"I do not understand the meaning of your words." Sten tilted his head to one side and gave her a curious look.

"Forget it; we'll get you that sword if we ever make it to Redcliff."

Sten nodded gravely. "Thank you Warden."

Without so much as a goodbye, he turned around and strode off to do Maker knows what. Feeling faintly irritated as she watched him go, Kallian popped one the cookies into her mouth and chewed with relish. It was a little stale, but the honeyed treat was still delicious. She had gone through two more before she noticed that Alistair was making his way over to her with a strained look on his face. Hastily stowing the rest of the cookies to her pocket, Kallian brushed off her hands and turned to meet him.

"So how did it go, are we allowed to enter the city?"

He nodded. "Yes, it took two hours of arguing, but the guard has agreed to let us to meet with the Assembly."

"That's a good thing right?"

"Yes, but I very nearly had to fight a duel to the death with one of Loghain's emissaries." Alistair sighed. "I could have used your help over there."

She gave him a careless shrug. "Someone had to guard the packs…plus Sten needed me to do him a favor."

"I thought I saw the two of you together. What was that about?"

"Eh, we shook down a merchant and Sten did his best to crush my self-esteem while we were at it."

Alistair gave her an uncertain look as if he was trying to decide if she was joking or not. Eventually, he just settled on giving her a half-smile while shaking his head. "Let's move right past that and continue on to more important things. The two of us have to somehow convince the leaders of the dwarves to join up with us. I don't suppose you have a plan?"

Kallian bent down in order to scratch behind her dog's ears. She had a plan, to be more precise she had several. For instance, she planned on finding a more comfortable pair of boots when they got into the marketplace of Orzammar. She planned on stealing and looting enough money to buy passage out of the country for her father and cousins. She planned on finding some horrible secret about Alistair's past so that she could give him a taste of his own medicine. What she had not planned however, was a good way to convince a roomful of dwarves to fight against a seemingly unstoppable foe.

"We'll just wing it."

He gave a snort of laughter. "Why not? It's not like we've really thought anything out so far."

"You think they will listen to us?"

"They have to; we are Grey Wardens and are carrying a treaty that compels them to aid. That's part of why I want you to come with me when we go to address them. It will help if we have more people to speak for the order when the time comes." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Trust me; we will be able to do this."

Kallian's stomach clenched and she slid out from underneath his hand while avoiding his eyes. She walked a few steps away and heard Alistair give a small sigh. Turning slightly, she flicked a glance at him over her shoulder. "I'll go see about rounding up the others."

"Good idea," he spoke quietly.

As she walked away, Kallian privately cursed him for the wedge that he had driven in their friendship. It would have been infinitely better for the both of them if he had just minded his own business and let her deal with her problems. She knew that he had been trying to do the right thing and somehow that made it worse. Despite all the talks he had insisted on having with her, she still wasn't able to look him in the eye without feeling a rush of shame.

No matter what he did, she'd never be able to forgive him for that.

Morrigan looked up and smiled as Kallian approached. It confused her that she had somehow managed to befriend the most unfriendly person in their entire group. Yet, for whatever reason, Morrigan seemed to like the fact that Kallian took the time to talk to her. Truth be told, it was kind of comforting to think that she was still capable of making friends with people. Once again, it was further proof that she wasn't as far gone as she sometimes thought she was.

Like it or not, this was where she found herself: helping qunari and befriending witches. She was a traitor to her country and one of the last members of a dying brotherhood. Three months ago, she had been an improvised pickpocket that no one of any consequence had ever noticed. Her life had changed and she had changed along with it.

She just wished she knew if that was a good thing or not.

* * *

The next three chapters are going to be focused on Orzammar and the Deep Roads and they are going to have a whole lot of action. There will be violence, a big moral dilemma, the beginnings of romance, Oghren and well...I'm excited is what I'm trying to say. Anyway, my class was canceled today so I'm off to begin writing the next chapter and work on my starcraft 2 build order.

Thanks very much for reading!


	14. An Attempt to Tip The Scales

**A/N**: Sorry I took so long to update, but I found this chapter very hard to write despite having a pretty good idea of what I wanted to say. In my opinion, the first thousand words or so are a little rough even though I must have rewritten them about twenty times. All that aside, I'm pretty happy with the way that this turned out, and I think I got everything I wanted onto the paper (figuratively speaking). Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it!

Chapter 14: An Attempt to Tip The Scales

Orzammar's Diamond Quarter-The Tapster's Tavern

* * *

Orzammar was very...big.

Leliana rested her elbows against the stone railing behind her, and let her eyes trace over the sharp angels of the Chamber of Assembly's exterior. Though she found the entire Diamond Quarter of Orzammar to be somewhat indulgent, she had to admit that the building was a truly remarkable piece of architecture. Like most of the major dwarven structures, it appeared as though the imposing structure had been carved from the very rock of the mountain that surrounded them. What separated it from the others was the impressive attention to detail that had gone into constructing its severe façade. Faced with the domineering majesty of the building, one couldn't help feeling insignificant.

An involuntary shiver passed through her spine as her gaze drifted up to stare at the ceiling that stretched hundreds of feet above them. While the rational part of her mind insisted that the city had stood firm for ages, she stop thinking about what it would be like to be buried beneath several thousand tons of collapsed stone. Orzammar had been described as one of the last wonders of the world, but she found it too far removed from the fresh air and sunlight.

Feeling uneasy, she cast a hopeful glance at the vast doorway that separated the Chamber of Assembly from the rest of the Diamond Quarter. Kallian and Alistair had been gone for close to an hour, and she prayed that they would hurry up and conclude their business with the dwarves. Much as she wanted them to succeed, she was beginning to think she would have rather waited outside of the city itself.

A rustling of paper made her look down to where Morrigan sat a few feet away. Leliana had tried to start up a conversation with her earlier, but the witch had been engrossed in a spell book and had snapped at her for the attempt. With Wynne gone to buy supplies, Leliana found herself left with few choices in terms of who she could talk to. Sten wasn't much of a conversationalist, and he seemed to be occupied with staring menacingly at every dwarf who walked past them.

They were drawing quite a bit of attention actually; it seemed that it was rare to have outsiders in any part of the city other than the vast marketplace. Then again, it must be rather disconcerting to see a group of heavily armed travelers lingering outside of one's governmental seat of power.

"Rather magnificent is it not?"

Zevran's silky voice drew her attention over to the right to where the elf was leaning against the railing in perfect mimicry of her own posture. Unsure of whether it was unintentional or not, Leliana nonetheless straightened up and gave him a wary look. While she had one or two misgivings about most of her companions, she had nothing but distrust for the Antivan assassin. With his fine features and casual sensuality, Zevran reminded her unpleasantly of a carnivorous flower she had once seen in Val Royeaux greenhouse gardens. It may have had very pretty petals, but the horrid little thing also lived on the insects that were fooled by its allure.

She let nothing of her thoughts show on her face. "Are you are referring to the buildings?"

"Of course," he gave her an empty smile. "Chauvinistic though I may be, I confess Antiva has nothing to rival Orzammar's architecture. They are such big buildings for such a small race of people…it is enough to make one wonder if the dwarves are trying to compensate for something."

"Truthfully, I find it all to be a little too ostentatious for my tastes."

Zevran clucked his tongue. "Coming from an Orlesian, those are damning words indeed."

"What does my nationality have to do with anything?"

"Please, I did not mean to cause offense." Zevran's tone and sly smile suggested otherwise. "I merely meant to say that I am a supreme admirer of your country's dedication to frivolity. Try as I might, I have yet to approach the level of hedonism that I've found in your glorious cities."

"Somehow I doubt that's true." Leliana felt a sour feeling welling up inside of her. In the short time that she had known him, the assassin had proven to possess some special talent for getting under people's skin.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I have enjoyed a great many things in life and not all of them are approved of in polite society."

Leliana shook her head and turned her gaze back to the Chamber of Assembly. Beside her, Zevran pushed off the railing and stretched his lean arms above his head with a sigh of satisfaction. He turned to gaze at her with glittering eyes.

"So let us be frank: what are you doing here?"

The question threw her for a loop, and it took a moment for her to respond. "I beg your pardon?"

"If there is one thing I have learned in life, it is that things stay constant." Zevran's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Bards do not become Chantry Sisters and Chantry Sisters do not travel alongside Grey Wardens. So then I must ask myself: what are you really and why are you here?"

"My reasons for being here are my own." Anger sharpened her voice into a fine edge. "And I am exactly what I claim to be."

He laughed. "I find that hard to believe."

"Your opinion of me is unimportant." Leliana narrowed her eyes. "But while we are on the subject, why are you here? Do you honestly think any of us believe that you are on our side?"

"Are you questioning my loyalty to the Wardens?"

She gave him a significant look. "Loyalty is easily given with a blade at your neck. What's to keep you from turning on us now that Kallian has spared your life?"

Zevran folded his arms. "My word"

"Worthless as it is."

That got a reaction out of the assassin. A dangerous light flared up inside of his amber eyes as he took a few steps closer to her. Sensing that she was gaining the upper hand in the conversation for the first time, Leliana uncoiled from her relaxed posture to face him.

"Had it been my desire, I could have slit your neck at any point over the last few days." Zevran showed her his teeth in a harsh parody of a smile.

"You could have certainly tried."

His hand drifted down to his side. "That confidence may be misplaced."

A familiar joy surged up in her at the promise of an impending fight. Though it sometimes disturbed her, right now she embraced that fierce excitement as she stared down the other assassin. It had been a while since she had fought with blades, but she was confident she could take Zevran in a fight. The Antivan Crows were talented, but even their elite members were rank amateurs when compared to a well-trained Bard. If he made the wrong move, she'd show him the depths of his poor judgment.

"If the two of you are going to murder each other, do it elsewhere. 'Tis hard enough to read in this lighting without blood splattering everywhere."

Morrigan's voice was like a dash of cold water that brought her back to reality. Across from her, she saw Zevran relax as he also seemed to realize that this wasn't the time or place for this conversation. He adopted the sharp grin that was his usual expression before giving Leliana a nod. Then, he turned on his heel and strode several feet from where she stood.

Leliana waited until he was a comfortable distance away before she let the tension bleed out of her muscles. It hadn't been her intention to start a fight with the assassin, but she had to admit that she would sleep easier without him lurking about. She wasn't sure what Kallian had been thinking when she had invited him along with them.

As though that thought had been a signal of sorts, the doors to the Assembly opened to admit two familiar figures back onto the street. Leliana straightened up happily as Kallian and Alistair began to make their way through the crowd that had amassed outside of the Assembly. Her smile died as she got a good look at the dark expressions that both of them wore. It seemed as though things had not gone as planned.

She walked forward to meet them. "Is everything alright?"

"No, everything is _not _alright." Alistair sounded clipped and tense as he gave her a distracted look. "Kallian, I'm going to go looking for either Bhelen or Harrowmont. If you manage to have any luck in the marketplace I'll probably be somewhere in this district."

Without so much as a goodbye, Alistair hurried off in the direction of what Leliana believed was the Royal Palace of Orzammar. Blinking at his uncharacteristic rudeness, Leliana turned a questioning look in Kallian's direction. "I take it that the meeting with the Assembly went poorly?"

"You could say that." Kallian scratched at the back of her head. "The dwarves won't agree to help us because the government is fractured. The King died pretty recently and now there is a question of who's going to be his successor. Near as I can tell, it's between his son and some other lord named Harrowmont."

Morrigan looked up from her book with a sigh. "Pray tell, how do the dwarves decide who is fit to be their new king?"

"Murdering the opposition seems to be popular, but officially the Assembly needs the word of a paragon in order to make a decision." Kallian pushed past them to where she had left her water skin. Pulling the stopper loose, she tilted it back and drank several long mouthfuls.

"Paragon…I am unfamiliar with this term." Sten's deep voice surprised Leliana; she hadn't been aware the qunari was listening.

Kallian wiped her mouth. "A paragon is a super dwarf or something."

"That's mostly accurate," Leliana smiled faintly. "It is a term that describes the highest echelon that a dwarf can aspire to. The title "paragon" is an honor given to the most talented warriors or craftsmen among the dwarven people. A paragon is recognized solely by their merit, and they occupy a role that is equal parts hero and politician. It is my understanding that they are held in the highest esteem by both the Assembly and the king himself."

Kallian nodded. "Like I said: super dwarf"

Sten inclined his head. "The finest among them choose the leader. I approve of this; it is a rational way of proceeding."

At this, Kallian rolled her eyes. "Yeah it's great, except for the fact that the only living paragon has been missing in the Deep Roads for years."

The party fell silent as they absorbed the possible implications of that sentence. After a few meaningful exchanges of looks, it was Morrigan who voiced what they were all thinking. "I hope that does not mean that you intend that we enter the Deep Roads in search of this paragon?"

Kallian shrugged. "I suggested we just kill one of the candidates so that the other one could be king. Alistair was the one who came up with the Deep Roads plan."

"'Tis a death sentence!"

"Try telling him that." Kallian gave Morrigan a helpless shrug. "If it helps any, it's currently impossible to get into the Deep Roads. The Assembly has placed a guard around the entrance and they are forbidding anyone except the dwarven military to leave the city. Right now, we can't go into the roads without the direct authorization of one of the dwarven nobility."

Morrigan slowly closed her spell book. "Are they willing to authorize us?"

"Nope"

"So then how are we expected to proceed if the one person we need is beyond our reach?"

"Now you see why Alistair and I were so frustrated. It's kinda like the dwarves don't even want to help themselves. I think they just like the excuse to argue."

Leliana furrowed her brow. "Speaking of Alistair, why did he leave so quickly?"

"He got pretty angry in the Assembly. I think that all of this is getting to him a little bit." She looked over in the direction to which he had disappeared. "But, he's planning on gaining an audience with either Prince Bhelen or Lord Harrowmont in the hopes of convincing them to let us go into the Deep Roads."

"Shouldn't you be with him?"

"We decided to split up. He's going to go talk to the candidates and I'm supposed to go into the marketplace and look for a different way into the roads." Kallian gave her a wry look. "I think he sent me on a goose chase. This is probably just an excuse to keep me away from the nobility."

"I am certain that is not the case." Leliana spoke softly as she watched the elf. At times it seemed as though Kallian was dead set on believing that everything that Alistair did was designed to slight her in some way or the other. At this point, Leliana wasn't sure if it was poor self-esteem or a manifestation of the tension that had settled between the two since the night of their fight. Leliana had tried to subtly bring up the cause of their disagreement on several occasions, but both of them were adamantly tightlipped about it.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that it is. Back in the Assembly, one of the nobles was being very condescending towards the two of us. I got tired of it and called him a rather unflattering name. Anyway, it very nearly got the two of us arrested by the guards."

Leliana shook her head with a smile. "What did you say?"

"It rhymes with 'runt' and he deserved it."

From where he was leaning on the stone railing, Zevran gave a short chuckle at that. Kallian looked over at him with a sharp smile that reminded Leliana uncomfortably of the one Zevran had given her earlier. An odd emotion rose up inside of her chest and Leliana shifted to draw the Warden's gaze back to her. "So, what do you plan to do now?"

Kallian shrugged. "Like I said, I can't see myself finding anything of value at the marketplace aside from what's on sale. That said, I think it's best if we all pick up whatever we might need in case we do actually end up going into the Deep Roads. We're stuck here for the moment; let's make the best of it."

This drew a chorus of nods and muttered agreement from the assembled group. Slowly, everyone began to gather their gear before breaking off to go their own separate ways. Leliana watched the fragmentation with a feeling of unease, it sometimes seemed to her that they should be doing things as a unified group.

Her eyes drifted over to where Kallian was rummaging around inside of her pack. Deciding to see if she couldn't strengthen at least one relationship, Leliana strolled over to stand a few feet away from the elvish warden. After a moment, Kallian glanced up with a questioning look. "Do you need something?"

"Nothing in particular, I was just going to ask you a question." Leliana made an effort to sound as friendly as possible.

"Mmhmm…and what's that?" Kallian went back to combing through her gear.

"Well, I plan on going to get a drink at the tavern we saw back in the marketplace. Since you don't have anywhere else to be, I was wondering if you would like to join me."

The elf paused what she was doing to look up at Leliana "You want to get a drink with me?"

"If you have something else to do, I understand completely." Leliana smiled to show that there would be no hard feelings. A tingle of nerves went through her as Kallian simply stared back at her with an unreadable expression.

Finally, Kallian blinked a few times. "Uh, well yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Hell, we might even manage to overhear something that could end up helping us."

"Wonderful, it has been too long since I've been in a tavern."

Kallian made a noise of agreement as she pulled a slim dagger out of her pack and slid it into her boot. "Yeah, same goes for me. I think that the last time I had anything to drink was that ale you bought me back in Lothering. Now that I think about it, I guess that means I'm buying the first round this time."

"It is only fair." Leliana smiled as she hefted her own pack off the ground and lead the way down the wide street.

As they walked past him, Zevran looked up from his own gear. He watched them both with smile before giving Leliana an elaborate flourish with one hand. It was a gesture used in dueling; one that invited the opponent to attack whenever they felt ready. Kallian craned her head to peer back at the assassin as they moved away from the Assembly. She shot Leliana a curious frown. "What was that all about?"

Leliana shook her head. "Let's call it…professional courtesy."

xxXxx

In direct contrast to the austere beauty of the orderly Diamond Quarter, the marketplace was a whirlwind of colors, voices, and smells. Leliana knew that many people would find it to be something of a sensory overload, but she liked this type of chaos. Everywhere one looked; there was something that was designed to catch one's attention. Colorful banners advertised services, while from each of the large stalls that lined the pathway; merchants shouted prices and bragged about the superior quality of their products. Hanging over all of it, the tantalizing aromas of roasting beef and freshly-made bread were enough to make anyone's mouth water with anticipation.

Politely holding up a hand to deter a merchant trying to sell her perfume, Leliana cast a glance to where Kallian walked beside her. Though the elf did not seem overly uncomfortable in the midst of the crowd, she did notice Kallian's gaze darting about warily as they moved through the press of people. While the marketplace was grand and very dense, it was also relatively small when compared to many of the trade districts found in Orlais and Ferelden. In less time than she expected, Leliana caught site of the large wooden sign that marked the large tavern. Catching Kallian's elbow and pointing to the door, Leliana steered them in the direction of their destination.

As they extracted themselves from the worst of the crowd, a small dwarf girl approached them. While it was difficult to tell under the layers of grime that coated the girl's skin, Leliana guessed that the child couldn't have been much older the fourteen or sixteen. When she drew close, the girl looked up at them beseechingly.

"Please kind women, can you spare any coin? I haven't eatin' fer days."

She gave the beggar a tender smile. While Orzammar strove to present a front of prosperity and cleanliness, Leliana knew that there were parts of the city that languished in squalor. As she understood it, dwarven society was based on a caste system. For those born into the lower castes, life was a constant struggle filled with poverty and illness. With no opportunities for social advancement, these second-class citizens worked menial labor for the benefit of the nobility.

Before Leliana could reach for a coin to give the girl, Kallian stepped forward quickly. Swatting the girl's outstretched hand away with a snarl, the elf glared down at the cringing dwarf with a hand on her knife. "Sod off, you won't get anything from us."

Leliana watched in stunned silence as the dwarf tossed them a fearful look before scrambling away. Utterly shocked by her companion's behavior, she slowly closed her open mouth as she turned to see Kallian already walking up the steps that led to the tavern door. Upon reaching the doorframe, Kallian turned around with a raised eyebrow when she noticed that Leliana had not followed her.

Though she wanted to say something about what had just occurred, Leliana couldn't quite form the words that she wanted. Slightly shaken, she started up the staircase with a last glance at where the dwarf had disappeared.

The tavern was well lit and surprisingly not crowded when they entered the main room. Leliana gratefully noticed that there was a large fire roaring in the great fireplace that dominated one of the walls. Orzammar on the whole was far too drafty for her liking. It was actually rather bizarre considering the fact that there were open lava flows at various parts of the city. Still, at least being underground meant that they were out of the rain and the snow for a while. It felt like she hadn't been properly dry in ages.

Kallian turned to her. "Why don't you grab a table? I'll see about getting us something to drink."

She gave a small nod of agreement before setting off across the main room. As she went, she couldn't help but notice the stares that the mostly dwarven clientele sent her way. Smiling uncomfortably in response to the scrutiny, she climbed the short staircase to a raised section of the room and sat down at a small table that could easily fit four people. Placing her pack on the chair next to her, she leaned back in the comfortable, albeit very short chair and looked around the bar.

Based on a quick perusal, she gathered that 'The Tapster's Tavern' was patronized by an eclectic assortment of the upper dwarven classes. The vast majority of the people in the bar wore the plate armor that was common to the warrior caste. Sprinkled here and there, she could see some of the dwarves wore the finer silk trappings of politicians or the nobility. Aside from a sullen-looking human in one of the corners, she and Kallian were the only outsiders in the bar.

She managed a smile as Kallian moved towards her with a bottle and two glasses clutched in her hands. Like Leliana, the elf received a number of stares as she moved through the crowd. The looks ranged from hostile to curious, but they all managed to create the impression that this wasn't a place where topsiders were common.

Kallian collapsed into the chair opposite of her and slid one of the empty glasses over. Tossing her a roughish wink, Kallian reached into her belt and pulled out a small knife to loosen the cork of the bottle she was holding. After working at it for a few moments, the elf pulled the cork free and passed the bottle over to her. Leliana took it curiously and twisted the bottle around to read the label.

Her eyes widened as she took in the Orlesian words on the side. "By the Maker! Is this what I think it is?"

"Yep, the finest Orlesian brandy straight from Churneau itself." Kallian seemed extremely pleased with herself as she motioned for Leliana to pour their drinks. "I wasn't interested in trying any type of beer that's brewed from fungus, so I asked the bartender what they had that was imported."

Leliana poured them both a generous measure of the amber liquid. "Not that I'm complaining, but this must have cost a small fortune. Can we really afford to have something like this?"

"Probably not, but all the money in the world won't do us any good if we end up dying in the Deep Roads. Better to spend it now and enjoy it than to give it to the Darkspawn."

"I suppose that's one way to look at it."

Kallian raised her glass up to clink it against Leliana's. "Plus, if it makes you feel any better, we aren't actually paying for this in the strictest sense of the word."

"What do you mean by that?" Leliana paused with the glass halfway to her mouth.

In response, the elf tugged a pouch out of her pack and tossed it on the table. Finely tooled and embedded with semi-precious stones, Leliana didn't need to be told that it did not belong to Kallian. She gave the other woman an exasperated look.

Tipping back a mouthful of the brandy, Kallian smiled at her. "I took it off some noble back in the Chamber of Assembly. He was too busy turning his nose up to bother looking after his purse. I thought it might be a good learning experience for him."

Unable to hold back a smile at the unabashed admission, Leliana raised her glass before taking a sip of her drink. She let her eyes close in pleasure she rolled the fiery liquid across her tongue. It had been some time since she tasted the spirit, but it was just as she remembered it. While Ferelden's preferred their dark ales and harsh whiskies, she remained convinced that nothing approached the offerings of her homeland.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Kallian was watching her with an odd expression. As soon as she noticed her regard, the elf shifted her face into a neutral mask before tipping her head in a questioning nod. "You like it?"

"Very much, it has been sometime since I've tasted anything from Churneau. What made you choose an Orlesian brandy?"

The elf smiled slightly. "A few years back, my cousin and I lifted the wrong crate from a dock shipment we were robbing. It had a few bottles of brandy instead of the flour we were expecting." Kallian's smile grew a little wider. "That night, the two of us got so drunk I think it's a miracle that I'm still here today. Even though I spent most of the next day feeling like death, it was still the best stuff I've ever had. The two of us used to laugh about it every time we went drinking…"

Kallian trailed off with a faraway look on her face. In the pause that followed, Leliana toyed with her glass and studied Kallian's face. The story about Kallian's past had reminded her about the incident that had occurred just outside of the tavern. Even though she wasn't sure if she wanted to risk making the other woman angry, Leliana felt compelled to ask about it.

"I have a question if you don't mind. What you said outside to that beggar girl that asked for money: was it really necessary?" She spoke softly and tried to keep any accusation out of her voice. "I cannot help but think that your behavior was terribly cruel considering what she must have to live with."

She held her breath as she waited for the elf's response. If Kallian had proved one thing in their travels together, it was that she was entirely unpredictable when it came to reacting to confrontations. Sometimes, she exploded like in her fight with Alistair, and other times she decided to free the assassin who had just tried to kill her.

However, other than a tightening of the skin around her eyes, Kallian didn't really react to her question. Instead, the elf leaned over and picked up the bottle to refill her empty glass while giving Leliana a calculating look. "What would you have suggested we do?"

"Well, I do not think it would've hurt to give her a few coins; especially considering the fact that you had enough money to purchase an extremely expensive bottle of brandy. At the very least, you needn't have been so harsh when refusing her." Leliana hoped this wasn't sounding as much like a lecture as she thought it did.

Kallian laced her fingers together and gave Leliana a level look. "What if she wasn't a beggar?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not understand."

"Consider this: what if all she wanted to do was see how many coins you had in your purse? Then she could go back to her gang and tip them off about the rich topsider wandering around the marketplace." Kallian drank from her cup without taking her eyes off Leliana. "Next thing you know, we're getting mugged and killed once we wander into a dark enough part of the district."

Leliana frowned slightly. "You do not know that was the case."

"Fine, then maybe she was working for a thief lord who takes what she makes panhandling and feeds her scraps afterwards."

"I think that you are missing—"

Kallian cut her off. "Or _maybe_, she'll just die from some sort of illness in a few days and it won't matter whether we gave her money or not. Look, I get what you are trying to say, but this is something that I understand. You have to be harsh and hold onto what is yours. That keeps other people from doing exactly what you'd be doing in their position."

A silence fell between them as Leliana tried to frame her response in a way that wouldn't offend Kallian's practical outlook. Taking another sip of the brandy, Leliana set her glass down and smiled sadly. "Forgive me for saying so, but I would think that would be a very lonely way to move through life. Even in spite of those risks, I would have rather we given her a coin or two."

"That would have been foolish." Kallian was frowning at her.

"Perhaps, but sometimes being foolish is preferable to the alternative." She clasped her hands on the table in front of her. "For people such as us, it is even more important that we strive to lend aid wherever we are able. This world is cruel enough without us adding to the burdens of another."

For a few moments, the elf just stared at her with an inscrutable expression. Finally, she shrugged and downed another hearty sip of liquor. "It sounds a little like idealism to me; I think we might just have to agree to disagree on this one."

It was clearly an attempt to change the course of their conversation. While she would have liked to pursue the issue, Leliana wasn't willing to risk starting a fight with the volatile elf. So, with a small nod of agreement, Leliana picked up her glass and smiled. Before the silence between them could grow uncomfortable, Kallian leaned back and spread her hands.

"I was thinking about something you mentioned a while back about how you were raised by a noble in Orlais." She paused a moment before continuing. "When it comes down to it, I don't understand why you would leave a life like that just to become a bard."

Leliana tilted her head. "So I take it that it is my turn to share about my life?"

"It's only fair." Kallian smiled as she echoed Leliana's words from earlier.

"Ah, well then I suppose that part of it was that I greatly desired to experience something more adventurous than a courtier's life. You have to understand, I was once a remarkably naïve girl who thought that the world was little more than a playground." A small tingle of embarrassment coursed through her as she remembered the way she had behaved. "However, I think that the true reason I left was because I was searching for something that my childhood lacked. Do not mistake me, Lady Cecile provided me with a great many things, but she wasn't able to replace having a mother and father. I would say that I turned to the life of a bard because I sought some sort of belonging that I did not find in the Royal Court."

"You mentioned not having a father back at the Circle Tower, but I never got a chance to ask you about it." Kallian's normally raspy voice was unusually soft quality as she spoke.

"Yes, I never knew him." Leliana drank from her glass. "Still, I think that I am the lucky one in our little group."

Kallian blinked. "What do you mean?"

Leaning back to drape her arm over the back of her chair, Leliana cradled her brandy with one hand. "Well, if you think about it, we really are a collection of orphans all traveling together. Wynne was raised by the Tower, Alistair by the Chantry, Zevran by the Crows, and well…you've heard the way Morrigan talks about her mother. I've heard people's worst enemies described in a kinder light."

"Huh, it is kind of a weird coincidence now that you mention it."

She shook her head. "Perhaps, or perhaps it is not a coincidence so much as it is an explanation. After all, ordinary people with happy families and stable lives tend to go into different lines of work. They become shopkeepers or craftsman and spend their days worrying about trade routes and the harvest season."

"You're saying that we're fighting Darkspawn because we didn't have parents?"

"Not quite," Leliana shrugged her shoulders. "What I am suggesting is that we were all very dissatisfied with our lives at one point or the other. To assuage that feeling, I think that we chose to dedicate ourselves to institutions that we idealized. For me, it was the Bards; for Alistair, it was the Wardens. I'm certain that the others would have very similar tales if you were to ask them."

Kallian let out a long breath and shook her head glumly. "No, I think I'm depressed enough as it is right now."

Leliana laughed aloud at her comment. Their conversation had been getting entirely too serious, and she was glad for the opportunity to ease some of the tension between them. When she had invited Kallian along with her, she had hoped for the chance to have a little fun without worrying about the Blight for a change. Unfortunately, it seemed like each of their topics had inevitably led to some intense conversation about their personal lives.

"You might be right; I fear that our talk has become all too burdensome for my liking." She gave the elf her brightest smile. "Let's change the subject; what would you like to talk about?"

Reaching for the bottle to refill both of their glasses, Kallian rolled her eyes at the question. "No, I came up with the last topic and look where that led us. You choose."

Even in the faint torchlight of the main room, Leliana could see that the distilled spirit was beginning to affect the elf. A healthy flush darkened Kallian's chestnut-colored skin and she had lost some of the tension that she always carried around her eyes and mouth. For perhaps the first time since she had met her, Leliana thought that the elf looked like she was actually relaxed. Most of the time, it seemed as though she was possessed with a nervous energy that kept her hands and eyes in constant motion.

Now though, Kallian was slouched in her chair with a crooked grin that revealed white teeth. Not for the first time, Leliana let her gaze drift over the elf's face with an appreciative eye. While she might not be conventionally beautiful, there was something tremendously attractive about Kallian's striking features. At times, her smile was too cold or her eyes far too intense, but somehow these rougher edges blended together to accentuate her sharp appeal. Pleasantly warm from the brandy that she had drank, Leliana smiled as she thought of the perfect topic for them to discuss.

"I…have I ever told you that I like the way you wear your hair?"

"My hair?" Kallian reflexively jerked a hand up to touch the side of her head. Her hair had grown out since Leliana had first met her, and now some of the shoulder length strands had spilled out of the headband to frame her narrow face.

Leliana nodded. "Yes, I've been meaning to tell you for quite a while. Honestly, I'm a little envious of it."

"It's just hair." Kallian more or less mumbled into her cup. "I mean, it isn't like I've been doing anything to it."

"Perhaps, but I think that it suits you regardless. It's simple and understated; a far cry from the styles that were popular back in Orlais."

Kallian looked rather pleased as she lowered her hand back to the table. "Is that right? I've never been to Orlais but I once saw a picture of one of their parties. Everyone seemed to have really fancy hair from what I could tell."

"Trust me, you have no idea how ridiculous it could get." Leliana smiled broadly. "One year, wearing feathers in your hair was considered to be very fashionable, and Lady Elise decided to outdo everyone else by wearing live songbirds in the folds of her hair. It was rather eye catching, until the poor birds proved to have very loose bowels."

To her surprise, Kallian actually laughed aloud. An oddly joyful sound, Leliana found herself wishing she had heard it more often. After a moment, Kallian recovered and looked over at her with dancing eyes. "That's hilarious, how did Lady Elise react?"

"Very poorly, but the spectacle was the highlight of the evening." Leliana drank another sip of brandy. "But forgive me; I was in the middle of paying you a compliment wasn't I? Sometimes, I fear that my mind has a tendency to wander when I'm speaking with you."

"I don't mind, it's nice to hear about places like Orlais. I've always kinda wondered what it was like." Kallian gave her another grin.

Leliana returned it gladly. "It's just that I feel very comfortable speaking around you. I haven't had the opportunity to get close to anyone for quite some time, and I wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time in your company. The Chantry was lovely in many ways, but there wasn't anyone there I could ever talk to in a manner such as this."

Kallian looked at her for a moment before dropping her gaze down to the table. Lifting one finger, she began to trace imaginary circles on the wooden surface. The silence stretched long enough that Leliana began to fear that she had somehow said something to make the other woman uncomfortable. Finally, Kallian lifted her head up and gave Leliana an extremely hesitant look that seemed out of place on her ordinarily guarded face.

"And…uh, do you often enjoy the company of other women?"

Leliana paused as she looked over to where Kallian was watching her nervously. It was obvious what the elf was really trying to ask with her endearingly awkward question. Though Leliana had considered the possibility of developing a much closer relationship with Kallian, she still had reservations about opening herself up to anyone on that level. It was one thing to flirt and tease around the issue; it was another to risk being vulnerable once again.

She frowned slightly as unbidden thoughts of Marjolaine suddenly sprouted up in her mind. With all the time that had passed, she would have thought that the old pain would have faded a little. Yet, even now, the memory of her betrayal and subsequent ordeal coursed through her as if it had only happened yesterday.

Willing such thoughts away, Leliana focused her attention on the girl sitting across from her. When she looked at Kallian, she could see no trace of Marjolaine in the elf's honey-colored eyes. Vicious though she could be, Kallian was not the playful and manipulative woman that Leliana had been drawn to all those years before. Leliana had lost enough years of her life to Marjolaine's influence, it was past time she moved on and left those memories behind her.

Making a decision, she surrendered to impulse and gave the elf a coy look. "Hmm…What if I were to say that I do? Very much so in point of fact."

"Oh, you know me; I'd probably blush and flutter my eyelashes." A grin was slowly spreading over Kallian's face.

"Is that so? Well, that's something I must see. Perhaps a little later? When I'm not ready for it?"

Kallian's grin exploded in a full-blown smile that transformed her face completely. It was like a different person was suddenly looking at her from the elf's body. Her expression was so openly pleased that Leliana found it easy to smile back. For a brief moment, it seemed as though—

WHUMPH!

She jumped as something slammed into their table with enough force to nearly knock over both of their drinks.

Startled, they both looked up to find themselves staring at the back of the armored dwarf who had crashed into their table. Very obviously drunk, the red-headed man stumbled wildly before righting himself against a nearby banister. Short and broad in the way of all dwarves, he wore his beard in two long plaits that framed his square chin. His armor was thick and segmented into blocky sections, which gave the impression that he was simply too wide to fit into the confined space of the tavern. As soon as he regained his footing, he whirled around to face them with a flushed and angry face.

"HEY! Watch where ya' going…" He trailed off as his bloodshot eyes slowly drifted from Kallian to Leliana. As though someone had casted a spell, a broad smile that showed far too many teeth abruptly spread across his lips. "Heh heh heh…pardon me ladies, but did the two of you happen to order an extra helping of handsome?"

Across from her, Kallian buried her face in her hands and sighed deeply.

…

xxXxx

"Are you kidding? Do I know Branka?" The dwarf thumped the table with one heavy fist. "Hell, I ought to; I married her for shit's sake!"

Leliana exchange a baffled look with Kallian as their new drinking companion downed his ale in three gigantic sips. Despite making a horrifying first impression, he had somehow ended up buying them all a round of drinks to make up for his clumsiness. Leliana had taken one sip of the ale he had bought her and privately resolved to never try a dwarven brew ever again. She wasn't entirely what it was, but it looked and tasted like curdled milk that had been liberally spiked with grain alcohol.

Kallian watched him intently. "Look…uh, it was Oghren wasn't it?"

"Yep, that's my name. But, you can go ahead and call me 'Oggy' if ya' like."

"I won't be doing that." She frowned at him. "Look Oghren, we really want to find Branka because we need a paragon's support. If you could help us get to her, we would really appreciate your help."

He grunted. "Yer kidding right? I've been trying to find someone to help me get her back fer ages. Only problem is that none of these pissant nug-fondlers have the stones to get off their asses and follow me into the Deep Roads. If ya' got the strength to get through the Darkspawn, I can get ya' to where Branka was last seen."

"What about the guards at the entrance to the Deep Roads?"

"Ha! Let's see 'em try to stop a Berserker!" Oghren jabbed a finger into the surface of the table. "Those idiots know better than to try and tell me what to do. If I say we're going in, then by the Ancestors we are going in whether they like it or not."

Kallian gave him a skeptical look. "Just like that?"

"Sure sweetness, just like that." He stood up and staggered a few steps away before calling over his shoulder. "Stick around fer a bit, I'm just gonna go drain the ole' deepstalker if ya' get my drift."

After watching the dwarf make his unsteady progress towards the tavern's wash room, Kallian turned back to Leliana with a helpless look. Shrugging slightly, the elf lifted up their bottle and split the last of the brandy between their two glasses. "So, what do you make of him?"

"He is remarkably repulsive, but I do not know enough about Orzammar's politics to know whether he can really get us through the guards at the Deep Roads. If he is who he claims to be, I'm inclined to believe that they might let the husband of a paragon do as he wishes."

"That's my thoughts exactly. Here, this one's yours." Kallian handed her one of the glasses with a faint smile.

"Thank you"

Kallian opened her mouth to say something else, but promptly closed it when her eyes landed on something over Leliana's shoulder. Turning her head to see what had caught the elf's attention, Leliana saw that Alistair had entered the tavern and was in the process of making his way over to where they sat. Even though he forced a smile when he saw that they had noticed him, Leliana could see that he looked drawn and harassed as he approached.

Sliding gratefully into the open chair next to Kallian, Alistair picked up one of the ales that Oghren had ordered and peered into it with a wrinkled nose. "Eww…what is this?"

"It's good, you should try it." Kallian hunched her shoulders and turned her attention to her own drink.

Leliana watched in concern as Kallian withdrew back into the shell of her defenses. While she wasn't certain why, it was apparent that Alistair's presence had enacted some type of profound change in Kallian's demeanor. When she looked over at the elf, she found herself looking at the hard mask that was Kallian's usual expression.

Alistair stared doubtfully at the ale before setting the mug aside. "I'm glad I found the two of you. Zevran told me that you were in here; but I thought it might just be some sort of bizarre assassin joke or something."

The idea that Zevran was keeping tabs on them did not sit all that well with Leliana. "Yes, that is fortunate I suppose. Did you have any luck with the nobles?"

"If you could call it that." Alistair furrowed his brow and shook his head. "It took some doing, but I was eventually able to get an audience with both Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont. Not at the same time of course."

"Were you able to convince them to let us into the Deep Roads?"

He shook his head. "Both of them were unwilling to commit to any action that might threaten their bid for power. If we are going to get past the guards, it looks as though we will have to align ourselves with one group or the other. The only problem is that they both want us to 'prove our loyalty' to their candidate."

"How do they expect us to do that?"

"Well, one of them wants us to kill off an entire criminal organization in the lower districts, and the other expects us to fight for him in some kind of gladiatorial games that are held in the center of the city." Alistair gave her a sad smile. "Now it's just a question of deciding which option offends my sensibilities more."

She smiled back at him. "Well, then perhaps you would prefer to have a third option."

"What do you mean?"

In a poetic display of perfect timing, Oghren chose that exact moment to return from relieving himself. Apparently oblivious to Alistair's arrival, the dwarf sat down next to Leliana and promptly began eyeing her almost untouched mug of ale. He pointed at it with one gauntleted hand. "If ya' not gonna finish that, do ya' mind if I have a sip or two?"

"By all means," Leliana slid the mug over to him before gesturing in Alistair's direction. "Oghren, I'd like you to meet Alistair. He is a Grey Warden just like Kallian."

"Erm…hello there." Alistair gave an awkward little wave with his hand.

Oghren looked up from the ale she had given him and squinted at Alistair with one eye. After a thorough perusal, the dwarf emitted a foul smelling belch and leaned over to rap his hand against Alistair's breastplate. "Heh, where'd ya' get this armor? The dress shop?"

Alistair's propped his head up with one hand and gave Oghren a tired look. "Well, he's absolutely charming. Dare I ask where you found him?"

"He found us." Kallian muttered without looking up.

"Mmhmm…and I'm going to guess that you've already recruited him?" Alistair peered at her with a half smile. "You know, because a wise-cracking dwarf with a drinking problem is really what we need to shake things up around here."

"Recruitment? Whoa hold on a minute, I ain't signed anything!" Oghren glared at the three of them suspiciously.

Kallian raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Nobody said anything about recruitment, Alistair. It just looks like we all might be able to help each other with our respective problems."

"How's that?"

The elf nodded at the dwarf. "Oghren's apparently married to the paragon. More importantly, he thinks that he can get us past the guards at the gates to the Deep Roads. All we have to do in return is insure that his wife gets back to the city safe and sound."

Alistair blinked a few times before settling back in his chair with a thoughtful look. From his position next to her, Oghren released another hearty belch that had Leliana reaching up to cover her nose. Useful though he may prove to be, Oghren was not exactly pleasant to be around.

Finally, Alistair smiled over at Kallian. "It looks like you might have solved all of our problems."

"Yep"

Oghren downed the last of Leliana's ale and pushed himself to his feet. "Huh, well if we're all in agreement, then what in the hell are we waiting for? I've been waiting for two years to see Branka and I'm getting pretty impatient."

"Two years?" Alistair frowned as he also rose. "Do you have any idea where she might be?"

"Caridin's Cross is a safe bet. Before she took off with most of her House, Branka couldn't stop blabbin' about finding the Anvil of the Void." He grunted to himself. "Crazy woman thought that she could retake all of the Lost Thaigs if she could bring back the golems."

A quick look at Alistair's face told Leliana that he also didn't have any idea what the dwarf was talking about. It seemed as though Oghren would have to explain quite a few things to them. Quickly finishing what remained of her brandy; Leliana stood up and slid her pack onto her shoulders. A thought occurred to her as she watched Kallian do the same.

"Where are the others?"

Alistair looked at her. "They're mostly scattered around the marketplace last I saw. Hopefully, we'll be able to gather them all quickly; I'd like to get moving on this as soon as we possibly can."

Oghren did his best to reach up and clap Alistair on the shoulder. "Good on you lad, no time like the present and all that."

Once they were all ready, Alistair led the way to the tavern's exit. As they walked through the social area, Leliana was discomforted to see that they were attracting even more looks now that Oghren had joined them. In fact, a number of people put their heads together and started murmuring as the dwarf stumbled by. However, Oghren either did not notice the commotion, or else he simply did not care.

As she walked outside of the tavern and back into the hubbub of the marketplace, Leliana paused a moment when a familiar face caught her eye. In the exact same spot where they had encountered her earlier, the dirty beggar girl stood watching them warily. When she caught sight of Kallian coming out the tavern's doorway, the girl flinched back into the shadows with a squeak. The motion caught the elf's attention and Leliana saw Kallian frowned in recognition.

After shooting a quick look over at Leliana, Kallian sighed and muttered something under her breath before striding over to where the dwarven girl was cowering. Leliana smiled as she watched the elf press a single silver coin into the beggar's grubby hand. Though she was too far away to make out the words that were exchanged between the two, she did catch a glimpse of the dwarf's awe-struck face as Kallian walked back to towards them.

As she moved past her to join Alistair at the front, Kallian glanced at Leliana. "Don't go getting any ideas…I'm just in a good mood right now, that's all."

Leliana nodded gravely. "But of course."

Alistair looked profoundly confused as Kallian marched past him without comment. Leliana just shrugged in response to his inquiring glance and shifted her pack so that it would rest more comfortably on her shoulders. She found herself grinning for no real reason as she followed the Wardens through the crowd with Oghren at her side.

Sometimes, it was the small gestures that counted the most.

* * *

As always, I have a few concerns that I'd love some feedback on. The first is that I'm constantly worried that I progress the events of the plot too quickly in my chapters. This extends into dialogue and I wonder if I have a tendency to change topics too rapidly in a given exchange. If you have an opinion one way or the other, I'd love to hear it.

My other concern is that I've written this fanfiction from multiple perspectives and I want to know if that seems to be beneficial or detrimental to the plot. On one hand, it's kinda fun for me, but on the other I think that a great deal of relevent information can be lost in translation some of the time. So let me know what you think: should I keep switching it up every so often or should I try to focus on a single POV?

Oh yeah, before I forget: I totally jacked that idea about everyone being orphans from chipmouskin. So a big thank you for that little bit inspiration and for everyone who has sent me a review thus far. Likewise, thank you to Andrigno for being a trooper through like, twenty PMs that helped me structure some of what will come in the later chapters. You all have been a big help to me in terms of feedback and helping to keep me from compromising my characters too badly.

Next chapter is going to be long and violent by my reckoning.

**TL;DR: Thanks and let me know your thoughts on this chapter!  
**


	15. Evaporated

**A/N**: So this chapter is a bit of an experiment in a number of ways. For one, I'm trying to cover a huge portion of the game that was very fun to play, and utterly boring to write about (i.e they went down the tunnel, they fought Darkspawn, more tunnels, more Darkspawn, "hey look, a Quasimodo dwarf"). So instead, I focused on some character interactions and threw in a few fight scenes to spice things up a bit. Also, the tone of this chapter shifts back and forth significantly so let me know how that works out for you. Finally, the very first section of this chapter contains sexual content and not the good kind. So be forewarned.

Chapter 15: Evaporated

The Deep Roads-Caridin's Cross- Ortan Thaig

_Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets._ -Arthur Miller

* * *

_It was the sounds that were the worst part._

_They were what anchored her into the reality of the situation. If it weren't for the wet smacks of his flesh against hers, she thought that she might be able to withdraw into herself and escape to some safe corner of her mind. Instead, she was trapped here, amidst his grunts of pleasure and the pained whimpers that were torn from her throat._

_She'd have thought it would be the pain, or the humiliation, but it was the sounds that set off her tears._

_He liked that she was crying. He told her so with a laugh._

_Shuddering helplessly, she closed her eyes and turned her head away as he roughly pawed at her chest with enough force to bruise her skin. With her hands bound to the headboard above her, she can do nothing except thrash weakly underneath him.  
_

_He told her that he liked that too. He grabbed her face and ordered her to look at him._

_They had beaten her the last time she fought them. She was tired of being hurt, so she opened her eyes and gazed up at the face of her rapist. The lordling smiled at whatever he saw in her eyes before bringing his head down towards her. She turned away again and tried to block out the sensation of his tongue on her skin._

_Her mother would be so ashamed if she could see her now._

_The man began to jerk wildly before slamming into her one final time. He groaned in pleasure and then collapsed on top of her as he released. Trapped beneath his suffocating weight, she fought the urge to be sick as the rank smell of him filled her nose. She was afraid of what they'd do to her if she vomited._

_Then, his lips were on her neck, sucking and biting in a cruel attempt to mark her. After an eternity, he finally withdrew from her body and rolled off of her with a satisfied sound. Unable to cover herself, she turned onto her side and did her best to curl up._

_She started to shake uncontrollably as the man ran his finger down her side in an almost tender caress. He laughed at her and sneered something about she was the tightest he had ever had; how she was a whore and had liked it.  
_

_Finally, took his hand off of her and stood up to fix his clothes. Looking down at her, the red-haired lord laughed again and walked away. She closed her eyes and prayed that they would let her go now. All she wanted was to go back home to her father and Shianni._

_The bed sunk down as someone climbed on to it. A rough hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her on to her back once again. She found herself staring up into the face of one of the other men. Grinning at the sound she made, the human wrapped a hand around her throat and forced himself between her legs._

_She closed her eyes as it all began again.  
_

…

…

…

xxXxx

Kallian jerked awake with a rushed intake of breath.

For a terrifying moment, her muscles were bunched so tightly she thought she couldn't move. Pushing down the sour wave of fear that coursed through her, she willed her body to relax until she was able to uncurl from the tight ball that she had been sleeping in. Worried that this would lead into one of her panic attacks she propped herself up on her elbows and took deep, shaky breaths until she was certain the feeling had passed.

Well aware that sleep wouldn't come again with the specter of her nightmare still close to mind, Kallian eased herself into a sitting position and ran a hand across her face with a sigh. It had been months since she had been able to have a full night of uninterrupted rest. When she wasn't reliving the horrors of her wedding night, she was plagued by nebulous dreams of destruction and death that she had come to associate with the Archdemon's influence.

Abandoning the warmth of her bedroll reluctantly, Kallian stood up and threw on her leather jacket. In the unnatural silence of the Deep Roads, she could clearly hear her companions' breathing as they slept soundly around her. Mindful to avoid waking anyone, she padded silently over to where their small fire cast its meager light. Dark as it was underground; she wasn't able to tell who was on watch until she was less than a few feet away.

Even though she scuffed her feet to avoid startling him too badly, Oghren still jumped and snatched at his war hammer when she appeared. Frowning at her as he relaxed, the dwarf slowly took his hand away from the massive weapon and shook his head reprovingly. "Ancestors' balls, but you elves are a sneaky lot aren't ya'?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." She took a seat by the fire and held her hands out to warm them over the glowing embers.

"I wasn't scared sweetness," he sounded indignant. "Just a little on edge is all. Being in the Deep Roads will do that to ya'."

Kallian frowned. "I've asked you not to call me that."

Oghren ignored her entirely. He lifted something up to his lips and she heard the unmistakable sound of liquid swishing around in a bottle. As soon as he finished drinking, the dwarf gave a huge sigh of satisfaction before smacking his lips. "You should be asleep; your shift ain't for a few hours and you're gonna be needin' your strength in the morning."

She shook her head. "Couldn't sleep"

He eyed her for a moment before shrugging. "Well, you're not the first to have a problem sleeping down here. Sure as hell ain't the place I go to when I wanna relax." The dwarf offered her the bottle he had been drinking from. "Here, a few sips of this will help you calm down a little bit."

After eyeing the bottle for a moment, Kallian reached out and took it from him with a murmured word of thanks. She tried not to be too concerned with the Oghren's wide smile as she lifted the bottle to her mouth and drank the mystery liquid.

Only her pride kept her from spitting it out.

Whatever it was, it tasted like someone had found a way to concentrate evil. Coughing weakly, she blinked her rapidly watering eyes as the foul concoction burned its way down her throat. Gesturing for Oghren to take the bottle back, she rubbed at her eyes before glaring over at the dwarf.

"What the hell was that?"

"Dwarven fortified ale." He sounded gleeful as he took an appreciative swig. "Made from mushrooms and mixed with potato spirits. The industry standard is 120 proof, but I like to add a little somethin' extra to give it a bit of kick."

Oghren extended the bottle again and chuckled when she pushed it away. For a while, they just sat in comfortable silence while Oghren drank and she did her best not to throw up. Vile as the ale tasted, she was glad to have something to take the edge off of her nerves. Hugging her knees to her chest, she peered into the fire and watched the dancing flames mindlessly. A considerable amount of time passed before Oghren shifted his weight and broke the silence.

"I never got around to tellin' ya, but I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did for me."

Slightly confused, she looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Hrrmph…C'mon Warden, what do you think I mean?" He drank from his bottle with an irritable noise. "I'm thanking you for givin' me a chance and helping me to find Branka. The way things were going, it didn't look like anyone was ever going to help me get to her."

"You're welcome, but we're helping each other Oghren. We needed your influence as much as you needed us."

He grunted and shook his head. "That's a load of nug crap. You would have gotten into the Deep Roads with or without my help. Even though I'd like to think it was my charm that convinced you to work with me, I know that there aren't too many folks who would be willing to help an old drunk. You did right by me…I'll remember that."

Kallian rested her chin on her knees and thought about how to respond. She knew what it was like to be indebted to someone else even when they didn't recognize that there was something to be repaid. A person's pride could make them do funny things. Sometimes, it was best just to accept a compliment even if you didn't deserve it.

"Alright, but I have a feeling you'll end up saving my skin before we get out this shithole."

Oghren snorted. "That's only if we manage to get out of here. Branka sure chose the worst place in the world to go exploring."

His statement sobered her up somewhat. To say that the two days they had spent in the Deep roads were eventful was something of an understatement. In between intermittent attacks by giant spiders and ancient golems, they had been forced to carve their way through a veritable hoard of Darkspawn. Even now, she could feel their distant presence as the taint in her blood called out to its own kind. Desperate to shake the monsters from her thoughts, she turned to Oghren and said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Is she worth it? Branka, I mean."

"Hell yes she's worth it." Oghren voice gained some animation. "Branka is the greatest woman I've ever met. You know how all them candy-ass poets talk about love at first sight and all that sodding nonsense? Well, it was like that with Branka. She's beautiful, strong, and a whole hell of lot smarter than just about every other dwarf in Orzammar. Funny to boot; the woman used to make me laugh so hard that I would literally piss myself."

"It sounds like you really cared for her." Kallian smiled crookedly. Even though she was pretty sure that this outpouring of emotion was the result of too much fortified beer, there was something universally endearing about hearing someone talk about their lover.

"Heh, sounds kind dumb when I say it, but I loved that woman so much it hurt sometimes. Sure, we had our bad times, but most of it was so good that it didn't matter."

"That's….actually really sweet Oghren."

He nodded to himself. "Plus, she had a rack you could eat a seven-course meal off of."

"Well, that's not quite as romantic."

"And she used to do this thing with her tongue where—"

"You need to stop."

Oghren sighed and took another pull off of his bottle. Shaking her head slightly, Kallian pulled her jacket a little tighter and considered the possible benefits of trying to go back to her bedroll. She had the last shift of the night, meaning she'd probably only get an hour or so of sleep before Oghren woke her up.

A muffled sound drew her attention over to where the dwarf was sitting. Oghren had turned away so that his back was to her, and he was making a low coughing sound. Her eyes widened as she noticed that his shoulders were shaking up and down.

"Oghren…are you crying?"

"N-no, I ain't c-crying." The dwarf pawed at his face. "Just had a little of the beer go down the wrong pipe."

Silently cursing whatever deity had placed her in this situation, Kallian pinched the bridge of her nose and held back a sigh. It seemed as though all of the times she had been forced to talk Shianni through one of her drunken episodes were about to pay off big. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked over to sit by the dwarf.

"Look, everything is going to be fine. We're going to get Branka back."

Oghren's voice was gruff. "I don't know if she's even alive. It has been over two years and there hasn't been sight or sign of her."

"That doesn't mean she's dead." Kallian rubbed the back of her head in discomfort. It actually probably meant that she was dead. "If Branka was as strong as you say, I'm sure she could handle a few Darkspawn here and there."

"Yeah probably, but I still shoulda gone with her when she left."

"Why didn't you?"

The dwarf's gauntleted hand clenched so tightly that she could hear the metal squeal. "I didn't go 'cause we had this big fight and I was being stupid. She'd been talking about the Anvil of the Void for months, and then all of a sudden she wants to go tearing through the Deep Roads lookin' for it. I told her it was crazy and she told me I should stay if I felt that way. Next thing I know, she'd gone and left me….never even got the chance to say goodbye."

"I…I'm sorry Oghren." There was nothing else she could say. Awkwardly raising her hand, she patted him on the shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

There was a pause.

…

"Erm…there's no easy way to say this Warden, but you need to leave right now." Oghren turned to look at her.

Kallian blinked. "Why's that?"

His fart was a thing of legend.

It began as a thunderous rumble that reverberated against his armor in a series of hollow moans. Warbling in pitch like the war cry of some barbarian horde, the sound eventually petered out with a languid squeal. Helpless in the face of the natural disaster that was occurring before her, Kallian was too stunned to react until it was all over.

Kallian's mouth fell open. "You…you have got to be fucking kidding me."

The smell that hit her was indescribable. It was not so much a stench as it was an eldritch cloud brought forth from some darker dimension. In the face of this type of corruption, all higher thought process ceased within her skull. All that remained was the reptilian portion of her brain screaming at her to flee.

Oghren inhaled deeply. "This one's taking on a life of its own."

Gagging, Kallian scrambled to her feet and retreated with one hand clamped over her nose. Fully aware that no words could ever begin to convey the depths of her outrage, she merely gave Oghren the dirtiest look she could manage before stalking away in the direction of her bedroll. Seemingly oblivious to her anger, the dwarf merely raised his bottle in salute. "Good night sweetness, dream of me."

She shuddered at the thought.

It was almost as unappealing as her nightmares.

…

xxXxx

"You know, something occurred to me recently."

Kallian paused a moment at Wynne's voice, but didn't look back for fear of ruining her night vision. "Hold up for a bit; I want the light to be a little further away."

At her request, Wynne halted and let Kallian move ahead a few paces before she resumed walked. The mage murmured a soft word and the blue light that bobbed along at her shoulder drew back a little. Though its illumination still provided enough of a glow to help her navigate the treacherous passage, Kallian could now see a few feet further ahead. It wasn't much, but it might mean the difference between stumbling into a trap and surviving. Keeping her ears perked for even the slightest sound, Kallian craned her head around a bend in the tunnel before hesitantly stepping around the corner.

Nothing killed her; that was always a good sign.

"Did you hear what I said?"

Letting out a breath, Kallian rolled her eyes. "Yes, I heard you. What has occurred to you recently?"

It had taken some experimentation, but the party had gradually worked out an efficient system for moving through the darkness of the Deep Roads. As both Morrigan and Wynne were more than capable of creating small wisps of magical light, the two mages had been placed at both the front and back of their group. The idea being that in the event of an ambush, neither the vanguard nor the rearguard would find themselves floundering about in the dark. Like any plan that kept them from dying, it was a good one.

That said, it also meant that part of the time, she had to travel with Wynne at her side.

"Well, I've been thinking about a constructive way to utilize some of the free time we have in camp and I have a proposition for you." Wynne sounded pleased she spoke. Kallian privately decided that was a foreboding sign. "I know that you haven't expressed any interest, but if you would like, I'd be more than willing to teach you how to read."

Kallian frowned slightly; shems made such a big deal about this reading thing. "Thanks, but I'm not really interested."

"I thought you might say that and I'm hoping you will reconsider. It might not seem very important at the moment, but learning to read could have a profound effect on your life."

"I have enough things profoundly affecting my life right at the moment." Kallian bent down to examine a suspicious looking floor tile. "What with the Blight and all, I can't really see reading becoming one of my priorities."

Wynne shifted a little closer to give her more light. "Perhaps, but think about your life after the Blight. It will be markedly different from the life you led prior to becoming a Grey Warden. You will have need of the skill and the knowledge that can be obtained through it."

"Uh-huh" Kallian began to gently prod at the tile with the point of her knife. It seemed mostly harmless, but it was a completely different color than the ones that surrounded it. After her examination yielded nothing of consequence, she eased herself back on to her feet and gently tested the floor tile with her toe.

"On a more personal level, I can tell you that reading has brought me more pleasure than just about anything else in my life."

Satisfied that it wasn't a trap, Kallian stepped over the floor tile and began moving forward once again. Behind her, she could hear the muffled rustling and clanking that signified that the rest of the party was following her. "I'm very sorry to hear that Wynne."

"Joke about it if you wish, but my point remains unchanged. I have a feeling you would find reading much more enjoyable than you would think." Wynne sounded irritatingly similar to a tolerant parent indulging a precocious child.

"She's right about that," Leliana's melodic voice drifted from somewhere behind Kallian. "One of the many things I miss about Lady Cecile's house was her wonderful collection of books. I believe that reading them as a young girl is part of the reason I love stories and legends so much."

Kallian grinned but kept her eyes focused on the darkness before her. "Is that right? Well, if its stories you want, than I think us elves have you beat."

"What makes you say that?" Wynne sounded genuinely curious.

"Just because most of us can't read doesn't mean that we don't share stories and knowledge. The only difference is that we tell our stories to each other instead of just writing them down on a piece of paper somewhere. If you ask me, I think our way is better."

"Ah, I had a colleague who wrote an entire treatise on the elven oral tradition." Wynne made a considering noise. "If I remember correctly, he was unfairly critical of the entire system. He claimed it was 'terminally inconsistent' and 'impossibly esoteric'."

Kallian shrugged before realizing that Wynne probably couldn't see the motion. "I don't know about that, but I do know that it's a lot more fun to have someone tell you a story. Plus, you don't have to stop and sit down to tell a story, you can do it on the move. You can't read a book while you're walking or working.

"Granted, but even a small library can hold more knowledge than any one person can possibly recall offhand."

"That's why you talk with a bunch of people. Back in the Alienage, the Elder would tell us about history and the like, and our parents would help us to learn what words meant and everything. That way, everyone learned something without having to waste our time with a bunch of silly scribbles."

Wynne gave a defeated sigh. "Well…just consider what I've said. The offer will stand."

About to reply, Kallian stopped short when she caught a glimpse of something unusual. Peering into the gloom of the tunnel, she could faintly make out a distant glow. She dropped into a low crouch and made a hushing gesture with one hand. A moment later, a faint scuffle alerted her to Leliana's presence as the bard perched down beside her.

"What is it?" Leliana's voice was barely a whisper.

"Maybe nothing, but it looks like torchlight."

The bard was quiet for a few moments as her own sight adjusted to the dark. Then, Kallian heard her make a considering noise. "I think you're right, I wonder what it means."

"I'll tell ya' what it means Red, it means that we're most of the way through Caridin's Cross." Oghren lumbered over to them with a rattling clank of armor. "That light you're seeing is the great bridge that separates the Cross from Ortan Thaig. Things are gonna be getting a lot brighter pretty soon."

Kallian hadn't quite forgiven Oghren for the way in which their conversation had ended, but his words lightened her heart considerably. She wasn't sure how long they had been traveling along the darker paths of the Deep Roads, but it had been long enough. They had passed through a few rooms that had been illuminated from lava flows or lyrium veins, but those had been few and far between. Most everything in this place was dark and dangerous.

"Alright, we keep moving just like we were. It would really ruin our day if we spring a booby trap just because we're excited." She tried to keep the note of anticipation out of her voice even as she spoke. The idea of being able to see more than a few feet in front of her was intoxicating.

Slowly, they reformed their single-file line and began to make their way down the corridor. As they progressed further, the glow that she had seen began to grow brighter until it became clear that the light was emanating from a wide doorway in front of them. When they reached the portal, Kallian cautiously poked her head past the threshold and gasped aloud at what she saw therein.

It was easily the largest enclosed space she had ever seen. Even the high ceiling of Orzammar was nothing when compared to the sheer size of the chamber before here. From where she was standing, she could see the majority of this new area was dominated by the massive stone bridge that arched across the vast chasm that split the chamber in two. The light that she had seen came from glowing crystals that were sunk deep into the stone architecture of the bridge and the surrounding buildings.

Stepping through the doorway in a kind of awed stupor, she gazed about as she tried to guess whether this place was a natural construct or not. Certainly, the bridge had been built by dwarven hands, but the chamber itself seemed too large to have been shaped by any mortal.

"What is that sound?" Leliana murmured beside her.

Confused, Kallian gave her a blank look before realizing that she could also hear something. From somewhere in the vast room, she could detect a dull roaring noise of indeterminate origin. It was loud enough that she was surprised that she hadn't noticed it immediately.

Alistair moved past them with a frown. "I think it's coming from the crevice."

Kallian started off after him and noticed that the sound was getting louder the closer they came to the edge of the chasm. Alistair reached it before her and let out a harsh oath at what he saw before him. Frowning, Kallian moved up to peer over the side…

And felt her stomach drop.

Many hundreds of feet below them, a massive army of Darkspawn stretched out in an undulating sea of armor and flesh. She couldn't discern much at this distance, but she quickly realized that the sound they had been hearing was the repetitive slap of countless feet marching together.

"There must be… several thousand of them."

"At the very least," Alistair sounded appropriately grim as he stared down at their enemy. "With our luck, there will be even more by the time the Archdemon decides to move out and onto the surface."

"Where are they going?"

It was Oghren who answered her. "They're going south. There aren't that many exits that lead from the Deep Roads to the topside. If I were this Archdemon, I wouldn't want to waste half of my sodding forces just trying to break past the defenses at Orzammar. I'd probably take 'em down to the lowlands and feed 'em out through the cave systems."

Feeling slightly ill, Kallian stumbled back from the edge of the cliff and turned away. She had always had a pretty good idea of what fighting the Blight would entail, but nothing had prepared her the sheer magnitude of what they were up against. Suddenly, their recent victories over a few small bands of Darkspawn seemed very insignificant.

"'Twas my understanding that we would have more time before they began their assault." Morrigan wondered out loud in a fashion that was pointedly directed at Alistair. Apparently noticing the implied criticism, he frowned over at her.

"I never claimed to know for sure." Alistair shook his head. "Still, this isn't as bad as it seems. Mobilizing and supporting a fighting force of this size won't be a simple task. I'm thinking that we still have a month or two before they start pushing into southern cities. That's all assuming Loghain isn't going to be holding position at some of the crucial defensive points in the lower reaches. If he puts up a halfway decent fight, it might be a few more months before they can move on Denerim and the north."

Wynne made a noise of agreement. "We have to remember that the Darkspawn are bound by the same limitations we face. They will either be slowed by the Brecilian Forest or the Frostback Mountains depending on which direction they choose to advance from. Hope is not yet lost."

"That's right we have to assume that we…" Alistair trailed off in midsentence and peered over to the right. "Are those….dwarves?"

Turning to follow his gaze, Kallian narrowed her eyes as she saw what he was indicating. Perhaps four hundred yards away, a small group of figures had suddenly appeared from one of the stone buildings that adorned their side of the great bridge. Short but very broad; they wore the distinctively blocky armor that the dwarves favored. As she watched, they fanned out in a convex semi-circle with the bridge to their backs and faced the building they had just exited.

The reason for this became clear a moment later.

With a rumble that was audible from where they stood, the front of the building exploded outwards in a shower of stone and dust. From the wreckage of the ancient building, a considerable force of Hurlocks and Genlocks poured out in a disorganized wave. Behind them, a massive figure forced itself free from the rubble that confined it. A good ten feet of purple muscle and rage, the ogre gave a mighty bellow before stomping off after its smaller brethren.

Zevran rubbed at his chin. "Oh, but he is a big one."

"See if you can help them, Morrigan and I will see what we can do from here." Wynne hefted her staff and lifted it up into the air before beginning a chant in the odd language of magic. Giving a short nod of agreement, Alistair flicked a look at Kallian before setting off towards the besieged dwarves.

As they were significantly faster than the more heavily-armored warriors, Kallian, Leliana, and Zevran quickly pulled ahead to provide whatever support they could. Once they had closed to within fifty yards of their foes, Leliana dropped back to ready her bow. A bare instant later, the bard's first arrow whistled past Kallian's to bury itself in the neck of the nearest Genlock.

Suddenly aware that they were now being attacked on two fronts, the Darkspawn hissed in distress and split up to meet the new threat. Tossing her a jaunty wink, Zevran slid his sword out of its sheath in time to deflect a heavy blow from an axe wielding Hurlock.

Kallian's drew her own knife and turned her attention to the closest Darkspawn; a Genlock wielding a wicked-looking sword. Well aware that the small creatures were deceptively strong, she dodged to the side to avoid his attack, and jabbed at his face with her dagger as she danced backwards. It was a poor angle for a strike, but she got lucky and caught the edge of its eye with her blade. Squealing like a pig, the creature reared back and gave her the opening she needed to plant her dagger in his breast.

Twisting the blade free from its flesh, she was forced to back up rapidly to avoid being surrounded by two Hurlocks that moved into to avenge the fallen Genlock. Frantically wondering when the others would be arriving, she hurled one of her throwing daggers at the Hurlock that was closer. The dagger sunk into the monster's neck and sent it tumbling to ground in a gasping heap.

Just as its fellow charged forward, Alistair entered the fray in a flash of bright metal. Battering the Hurlock's sword away with his shield, Alistair brought his own blade down in a vicious slice that clove a deep furrow in the Darkspawn's bald skull. Positioning herself behind Alistair, Kallian let him bear the brunt of the oncoming attack. Every time she saw an opportunity, she would dart out from behind the protection of his shield and lash out with her knives in any way that she could.

To their right, she could see Sten standing amongst the Darkspawn like some colossal avatar of destruction. Legs spread wide, the Qunari held off the oncoming hoard with great, sweeping blows of his massive sword. In direct opposition to the giant's stoic professionalism, she could hear Oghren cursing and yelling somewhere nearby.

"We're getting strung out, fall back and regroup!" Alistair yelled out before slamming his shield into the nightmarish face of a snarling Hurlock.

All at once, a massive blizzard appeared in the middle of their foes in a roar of wind and razor sharp ice. Blood sprayed in gouts as the Darkspawn forces was shredded and frozen in the face of the magically-induced storm. Seizing the opportunity that Wynne and Morrigan had provided, their party quickly tightened up their formation and drew back to let the spell dissipate.

As soon as it was safe, they moved forward to slaughter their dazed enemies. Letting the warriors lead the way, Kallian dropped back and began chucking her remaining throwing daggers at anything that still moved. Next to her, Zevran reloaded his small crossbow and fired it one handed. Cursing in Antivan when the shot went wide, the assassin gave her a quick shrug and reached for another bolt.

"OGRE!"

Alistair's scream was well-justified. The gigantic Darkspawn was now ignoring the dwarfs in favor of dealing with their group. Lowering its horned-head like a monstrous bull, the creature charged at them in an attempt to trample and crush them beneath its heavy feet.

Desperately, they all dodged to either side to avoid being bowled over by the monster's attack. Sliding to a halt, the ogre bellowed in rage and swung its massive fists around in wide circles. Realizing that they had to do something quickly, Kallian waited until its back was turned before springing forward at a full sprint. Once she was close enough, she leapt onto its broad back and grasped wildly for purchase.

Locking an arm most of the way around its neck, Kallian pulled her knife back with what little leverage she had and jabbed it into the junction between the behemoth's neck and shoulder. She was able to get in two more clumsy blows before the howling ogre caught hold of the fabric of her jacket with its claws. Thrashing about in pain and anger, the ogre yanked her off its back and threw her like she weighed nothing more than a kitten.

For a few seconds, Kallian sailed through the air with limbs flailing.

Then, she slammed into something very hard before dropping down to the even harder stone floor. Winded and dazed, she lolled about in pained confusion until a strong hand caught her arm and pulled her to her feet in a rough motion.

"Quickly now _bella_," Zevran's voice sounded very close to her ear as he half-dragged, half-carried her away from where she had landed. "You've succeeded in making him very angry with you, and I'm afraid he is not willing to drop the argument."

As if to punctuate his words, a furious bellow erupted from somewhere very close by. With another foreign curse, Zevran dragged them both to the ground just as something truly massive sailed overhead. A moment later, a thunderous crash accompanied a veritable hail of stone fragments that thudded painfully against her back and head.

Rolling to one side in an acute combination of fear and bewilderment, Kallian gasped as hot pain blossomed along her sides at the motion. Finally managing to roll onto her back, she lifted her head and stared about wildly until she settled on the gigantic ogre that stood some twenty feet away. Bleeding dark ichor from multiple wounds, the enraged creature whirled about frantically as her companions and the remaining dwarves poked at it from all angles. Though the creature still struck out with its massive limbs, Kallian could see that its motions were becoming labored as exertion and blood loss took their toll.

Jabbing at the creature's calf with his sword, Alistair succeeded in distracting the ogre long enough for Oghren to move in from the other side. Taking his heavy war hammer in both hands, the dwarf brought the weapon back before swinging it around in a tremendous arc. With the dull crunch of metal striking bone, the blow slammed into the ogre's knee with enough force to utterly destroy the vulnerable joint.

With a hideous scream, the behemoth fell forward in agonized heap as its leg gave out. Like wolves attacking a wounded ox, the surrounding dwarves and party members fell upon it with a vengeance. Weapons rose and fell over and over again until finally, the ogre ceased its pitiful flailing.

Groaning in relief, Kallian tried to lever herself into a sitting position and immediately regretted the attempt. Barely managing to bite back a scream of pain, she hastily lowered herself back down as a terrible pain shot along both sides of her chest. Coughing and then wincing when that hurt too, Kallian let her head fall back to stare up at the ceiling high above her.

Zevran's smiling face appeared upside down as he stood over her. "How are we feeling?"

"It hurts"

"I would imagine so, it certainly looked as though it would hurt." The assassin made a noise that he probably meant to sound sympathetic before bending down and sliding his hands underneath her arms. "Come now, time to sit up; we can't have you lying around all day."

"NO WAIT—" Her words were cut off by an undignified shriek of pain as Zevran swiftly levered her into a sitting position against a nearby pillar.

"Hush now, that's what you wanted isn't it?"

Breathing hard, Kallian rolled her head to one side to glare at him. "Why didn't I kill you again?"

"You're being unfair; I did just save your life after all. I think you were a little too preoccupied to notice at the time, but that ogre did his best to toss the entire mountain at you. Had it not been for me, you'd be crushed beneath a boulder at this very moment." Zevran sounded remarkably cheerful.

"Is that right?"

Zevran nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so. None would have mourned harder than I."

Her response to that would have to wait, as Kallian became aware of Alistair and Leliana hurrying over towards them. Following her gaze with a smile, Zevran winked at her and gave an exaggerated bow as he excused himself.

Leliana knelt down beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I think some of my ribs are broken, but I'm ok otherwise."

Alistair exhaled and smiled down at her. "That's good to hear; I think my heart stopped when I saw that ogre throw you at the chasm. If you hadn't hit that pillar, you'd have gone right over the edge."

Closing her eyes as the mental image of soaring over the edge of the cliff sent a wave of nausea through her stomach, Kallian tilted her head back to rest again the cool stone of the pillar. She opened them again when she felt Leliana give her shoulder a soft squeeze. Smiling slightly at the bard's concern, Kallian felt a small flutter in her chest as she met the other woman's blue eyes. She hadn't had many chances to talk with Leliana in the last few days, and she was still having trouble convincing herself that the conversation at the Tapster's Tavern had actually happened.

The clomping sound of heavy boots hitting stone announced the arrival of a rather ragged looking dwarf. Kallian felt her eyes widen considerably as she noticed that the dwarf's face was covered with a black death's head tattoo. Looking past the dwarf's shoulder, she could see that the other members of the group they had rescued bore similar markings.

Stopping a few feet from them, the dwarf crossed his armored forearms over his broad chest and looked over the three of them with an odd expression. After a moment of this, he shook his head and held out his arm in offering. "The name's Herott, captain in the Legion of the Dead."

Alistair walked over and grasped forearms with the dwarf. "I am Alistair, of the Grey Wardens."

"Grey Wardens huh?" The dwarf sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Shoulda guessed, you're just about the only other people with enough stones to be this far down in the Deep Roads. Still, can't say that I've ever seen this many of you at one time."

"Actually, only Kallian and I are Wardens." Alistair indicated her with his hand.

The dwarf peered down at her for a moment before returning his gaze to Alistair's face. "So what are the lot of you doing down here anyway? You both seem a little young to be receiving your Calling and I can't imagine any other reason for someone to come down into this hell."

"Calling?" Kallian frowned up at the dwarf in confusion.

"We aren't here for that." Alistair spoke quickly. "We're looking for the paragon Branka. We had information that she was last seen somewhere in Ortan Thaig."

Herott lifted up his gauntlet to scratch at the stubble of beard that darkened his chin. "Lookin' for Branka eh? Well, then I suppose you've come to the right place for that. The Legion hasn't run into that lot for a while now, but they were still going strong when we last encountered 'em"

"You've seen Branka!" Oghren rushed over and pushed Alistair aside. "So you're sayin' she's still alive?"

"I don't know about now, but we had a patrol run into her 'bout three months back. We offered to provide transportation back to Orzammar, but she said she wasn't done down here. Hell, even asked if we wanted to help her."

Kallian took in a shallow breath and placed a hand on the side of her chest that hurt more. "Did you?"

"Nah, we aren't allowed. Once you join the Legion of the Dead, you commit to fighting Darkspawn until you die. She wanted us to help her disarm traps or some other such nonsense. I told her that kind of thing wasn't part of our duty and we parted ways." He shrugged with a clank of armor.

"You hear that?" Oghren beamed down at Kallian. "Branka is alive!"

She gave him a weak nod that he barely noticed in his excitement. Breathing was becoming a great deal more painful all of a sudden, and she felt a wave of relief when she saw Wynne hobbling over in their direction. The elder mage was red-faced and breathing hard when she came to a stop in front of Kallian.

"My apologies for the delay," Wynne swallowed a breath and cleared her throat. "These old bones aren't what they used to be, and I'm afraid that spell I worked with Morrigan took more out of me than I had expected. Where are you hurt?"

Kallian straightened up as best she could. "My ribs mostly…but I think my back took a pretty hard hit."

Wynne nodded and placed her hands on either side of Kallian's chest. With a few words of magic, pale blue light emitted from the mage's palms and soaked into Kallian's skin in a soothing wave that eased the harsh pain at her sides. Sighing in relief, Kallian relaxed against the stone pillar and reminded herself that magic wasn't all bad.

"Anything we should be aware of once we get to the other side?" Alistair was still speaking with Herott.

"I can't really say for sure, we haven't been too active in that sector for a while." The dwarf shifted his weight between his feet. "Though, I'd be careful over there if I were you. The last patrol we sent that direction never came back and we haven't had the opportunity to look for 'em yet."

"Thanks, we'll keep our eyes open for them."

The dwarf nodded. "We'd be obliged if ya' did."

After a moment, Wynne pulled her hands back and wiped one across her sweaty brow. "There, I've repaired the three ribs that were broken. You're still going to have some nasty bruises along your sides and back. I'd try to heal them, but I think it might be best if I save my strength for what will come."

"I can handle a few bruises." Kallian took a deep breath and grinned at the lack of pain. "Thank you for what you were able to do."

Wynne gave her a tired smile. "My pleasure"

Taking the hand that Leliana offered, Kallian accepted the help up as she got to her feet. Once she was standing, she rolled her shoulders in loose circles and grimaced as the stiff and aching muscles protested the motion. Still, it was infinitely better than it had before Wynne had worked her magic. Kallian gave the mage another grateful nod before turning back to Alistair.

"I'm good to go whenever you are."

Alistair smiled. "It'll be just a minute; I have a few other things I want to talk to Herott about."

Shrugging, Kallian walked back to where the majority of the engagement with the Darkspawn had occurred. As she went, she bent down among the Darkspawn corpses and retrieved her throwing knives whenever she managed to find one. It was an unsavory task, but at least she didn't have to cut the little knives out of the corpses like Leliana had to do with her arrows.

She had just finished prying one of them out of a Hurlock's shoulder when Herott stomped over to her with something long clutched in his hand. As soon as she turned to meet him, he tossed it to her and she fumbled to catch the heavy object in her surprise. Holding it away from her chest, Kallian raised an eye brow when she realized that the dwarf had given her a sword.

A little over two feet in length, the short sword was sheathed in a fine scabbard of dark leather that was connected to a belt of the same material. Drawing the blade out of its scabbard, Kallian stared at the bright metal of the leaf shaped blade with a raised eyebrow. "What's this for?"

"It's for you of course." Herott scratched at his beard. "We figured that anyone dumb enough or brave enough to jump onto an ogre needs something more than those little nugstickers yer throwin' about."

Kallian sheathed the blade and gave the dwarf a suspicious look. "It's generous, but I don't think I did anything that warrants this."

"Maybe not, but it isn't smart to turn down an enchanted Tevinter blade no matter who's given it to ya' or for what reason."

Turning the blade over in her hand, Kallian looked at the dwarf and wondered if he was having fun at her expense. There were plenty of legends about the enchanted blades of the Tevinter Imperium and she doubted very much that she had just been handed one by a dwarf in ring mail that was older than she was. All the same, the weapon felt comfortable in her hand and she would admit to occasionally wanting something with a little more reach than her daggers.

Well aware that the belt would never tighten enough to fit her skinny waist, she slung it across her right shoulder so that the sheathed sword rested against her back. Kallian reached a hand back and made sure she could free the weapon without any difficulty. Tightening the straps as much as she could, she wiggled this way and that to make sure that it wouldn't come free at an inopportune time. Satisfied, she looked up and nodded at Herott.

"Thanks, I'll put it to good use."

He nodded. "See that ya' do. It belonged to one our boys that died today. He was a decent archer, but didn't know the first thing about sword work. Don't think I ever saw that thing unsheathed in all the months that we traveled together."

"Why'd he even have it then?"

"You hold onto an enchanted blade, even if you can't use it." Herott gave a brisk nod and looked down at the ground. "I…I've got a favor to ask of ya' Warden."

Kallian smirked knowingly, nothing was for free. "Go ahead"

Herott reached into a small sack at his side and pulled out a folded square of grubby parchment. Rubbing it with his thumb for a moment, he passed it over to her hesitantly. "I've got a daughter back in Orzammar. Her name's Meryl and I'd be obliged to ya' if you could give this to her. I'd understand if yer too busy or anything…"

"I can't promise you anything. We might not even make back to Orzammar alive."

"Yeah, I know, but I'd appreciate you tryin' anyway."

Reluctantly, Kallian took the letter from his hand and placed it in pouch that hung from her belt. "You said her name was Meryl?"

"That's right." Herott looked relieved. "Thank you, Warden."

With that, he bobbed his head at her and turned back towards his diminished group of warriors. Herott had only gotten a few steps away before he faltered and turned back to look at her. "Would you mind tellin' her that…well, that I'm sorry for everythin' that happened? That I love her and all that?"

Kallian nodded. "I'll do my best."

Herott gave her a strained sort of smile and walked away at a pace that was too fast to be casual. Shaking her head slightly, Kallian walked back to her own companions with his letter weighing heavily at her side. Accepting it had been a mistake; a pointless deviation from her purpose that would provide no tangible benefit. It didn't matter that it wouldn't be difficult or that he had given her the sword. Simply put, there was no reason for her to help him other than the small pang of pity that had settled in her heart.

Back when she had been alive, her mother had often reprimanded Kallian for what she had called 'soft-headed altruism'. Adaia had believed that every action must have a purpose and that benevolence and charity were luxuries that had no place in their lives.

"_Sentiment is a weakness common to the fool and the idealist. You are neither, Kallian."_

The words were still vivid in her mind even after all of the years had passed. If her mother were here, she'd scoff and tell Kallian to dispose of the letter and focus on the difficulties of what was to come. Realistically, her actions wouldn't affect Herott in one way or the other. Regardless of whether or not she delivered the letter, the dwarf would die in this place with the belief that his words had reached the daughter he would never see again. In many ways, Kallian had already granted him the peace that he desired.

Accepting her pack when Alistair offered it, Kallian adjusted the straps so that it wouldn't interfere with her new sword and slipped the familiar weight onto her shoulders. Muttering a word of thanks, she pushed by the Templar and walked over to the side of the great bridge. She reached a hand a drew out the letter that the dwarf had given heard and unfolded it in a pointless attempt to make sense of what was written there. After a moment, she refolded the paper and lowered her arm to dangle loosely at her side.

"What have you got there?" Leliana asked curiously from where she was cutting an arrow out of a Darkspawn.

Kallian let her fingers open so that the scrap of paper drifted over the side of the bridge in a fluttering descent. For a moment, she watched as it was swept back and forth by the air currents that sluggishly drifted through the subterranean hall.

"Nothing important"

…

xxXxx

Two hours later, their surroundings changed for the worse.

Though the Deep Roads were hardly a pleasant place to be at the best of times, this new section of the endless tunnels was on an entirely different level. In place of the rocky walls and stone floor of the previous caverns, there was now a fibrous organic growth covering everything. Dark orange and mottled with bulges and scaly patches, the loathsome substance emitted curious warmth that raised the temperature of the room by ten degrees or so. Worst of all was the cloying smell of decay that pervaded the air.

"'Tis rather similar to what we saw back in the Circle Tower is it not?" Morrigan spoke up from behind her.

Kallian turned around and sought out Alistair from his position at the back of the group. While it did look like the demonic growth they had encountered in the Tower, this corruption practically reeked of the Darkspawn taint and her blood burned at its proximity. "Alistair, are you feeling this?"

"You can also sense it?" Alistair looked a little ill. "Good, that means I'm not the only one."

She frowned at him. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know, it's definitely related to the Darkspawn, but I have never felt anything like this before. Whatever it is, it's nothing good."

That much was readily apparent even without the extra senses of the Grey Wardens. Looking at it conjured up the same inherent thoughts of revulsion that accompanied the more solid representations of the Taint. She shuddered and resumed walking over the spongy surface. As they went, the feelings of disgust began to grow stronger and stronger until Kallian had to resist the urge to rub and scratch at her crawling skin. Something terrible lay up ahead; something that should not be.

A flash of movement caught her eye and she hissed a warning. Up ahead, light poured from the open door of a room to spill out into the corridor they were in. Projected onto the wall opposite the door, the exaggerated silhouette of a figure moved back and forth slowly.

Kallian readied her blade and crept forward without a sound. A quick look over her shoulder told her that the others were following with similar attention to stealth. When she had drawn near the door, she was able to make out the faint sound of someone speaking. Indistinct and muddled, the voice droned onwards with a kind of dull quality that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Easing into the room quietly, Kallian slowly straightened when she saw that the speaker was a dwarf woman rocking back and forth with her head bowed and her back to the doorway. She motioned for the others to follow her, and then crept closer to where the dwarf was standing. As if response to her presence, the dwarf woman began to speak loud enough so that her words became clear.

"…_the men are all gnawed on again._  
_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate._  
_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn._  
_Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams._  
_Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew._  
_Eighth day, we hated as she is violated._  
_Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin._  
_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."_

Warily, Kallian turned her head towards Oghren and mouthed the word "Branka" in a silent question. Frowning at the muttering woman, Oghren shook his head slowly. Deciding that listening to this wasn't helping to alleviate the creepy atmosphere of their surroundings; Kallian stepped forward and cleared her throat.

"We are looking for Branka." Her voice sounded unsure even to her ears.

The dwarf woman stilled and turned in a mechanical motion. Catching sight of the other woman's face, Kallian flinched in horror and stepped back hastily. Like a corpse dug from the earth, the dwarf's skin was a nightmare of corrupted skin and grime. From amidst the bone-white folds of her face, jaundiced eyes stood out in stark contrast to the dark rot that spread across her cheeks and forehead. Laboriously, the woman looked at them as if she couldn't fathom what they were.

"Branka…..I, Hespith, was her captain, and she did not listen to me. I, Hespith, was her lover, and she did not come back for me." Her voice rose and fell in an odd cadence. "There can be no forgiveness…no justification for what she has done."

Oghren made an odd noise. "Did she say lover?"

"All that matters to her is the Anvil. We became trapped here and she left us to our doom." Hespith began to rock back and forth once again. "They came for us eventually. They took Lyrna first, made her eat the dead until she became like them. They tore at her and desecrated her flesh until she smelled as they do, and delighted in her gluttony."

Kallian shot Alistair a nervous look. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"The other Grey Wardens spoke of this." His face was contorted into a bitter mask. "When the Darkspawn capture a live female, they do something terrible in order to transform them into monsters. From what I understand, the Darkspawn then use these women for reproduction. They're called Broodmothers."

Hespith's entire body shuddered. "They made her….now she makes them."

With a hacking cough, the corrupted dwarf turned around slowly and bowed her head once again. After a moment, she lapsed back into the morbid rhyme she had been uttering when they first entered. Doing her best to ignore her, Kallian edged backwards and spoke to no one in particular.

"Can we help her?"

Alistair sighed. "There is nothing to be done for those who've been corrupted. The most we could offer her is a mercifully death."

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better." She hugged herself with both arms. "Let's just get out here ok? I don't want to be around her anymore."

"You're not the only one."

With the same subdued silence that one uses in a graveyard, they carefully edged around the corrupted dwarf and made for the door on the opposite side of the room. As they were about to exit, Hespith raised her head and spoke. "Kill what you find…there is nothing left of what it once was."

Shivering slightly, Kallian quickened once they had left the room behind them. By this point, the crawling sensation along her skin had increased to the point of being intolerable. She squirmed about and looked back at where Alistair was walking. Just like her, the Templar seemed to be suffering more the further they went along the corridor. Ahead of them, she could see that narrow path of the hallway was opening up into a far larger chamber.

Preoccupied as she was by her ailment, Kallian was taken entirely by surprise when the first tentacle erupted out of the ground in front of her. Twenty feet long and as thick around as her waist, the reddish-purple appendage coiled like a snake and struck out at her.

Yelping, she leapt back in shock and collided with Sten's solid body. Steadying her with one hand, the giant moved forward and drew his massive sword with the other. Sten took weapon in both hands and swung a diagonal blow into the side of their assailant. Writhing violently as the sword bit into its leathery skin, the tentacle rapidly withdrew into the ground just as a piercing scream echoed from up ahead.

"More coming from behind, move up! move up!" Alistair shouted frantically the back.

Adrenaline coursing through her system, Kallian darted forward with Sten and Oghren close on her heels. From behind came great rumbles and explosions as more of the mysterious tentacles exploded from the walls, ceiling, and floor of the narrow tunnel. Desperate to escape the murderous confines of the corridor, Kallian increased her pace and shot out of the pathway and into the next chamber at top speed…

And stumbled upon a nightmare.

Whatever resemblance the Broodmother had to the woman it once was had disappeared entirely. Skin as pale as a fish's belly stretched over hideous rolls of fat that spread out from its body in a manner that reminded Kallian of a candle that had melted down. Though it was far too obese to have discernable shoulders, the upper half of its body featured two stunted arms and a small head that seemed out of place on its massive body. From the folds of its fleshy skull, two beady eyes flared with malice and a covetous hunger that grew ever more potent as more of the party rushed into the chamber.

"By the Maker…" Leliana's voice was a horrified whisper.

Then, with a deafening screech, the sedimentary Darkspawn began waving its arms like the composer of some macabre orchestra. In response, a half-dozen of the red tentacles shot out of the ground in a protective wall around the Broodmother. Easing her new sword out of the sheath on her back, Kallian cleared her throat while keeping a watchful eye on the waving appendages.

"I don't suppose anyone has any bright ideas on how we're supposed to kill this thing?"

Oghren snorted. "We could try hitting it really hard."

"The Broodmother is the source of the tentacles." Alistair sounded only slightly uncertain as he said this. "We should prioritize her and hope that they die off with her."

Zevran pulled his crossbow off his back and fit a bolt onto the rest. "A good plan, but something tells me that they will not be so easily ignored."

A moment later, the first of the tentacles whipped forward with a speed that almost took Kallian off guard. Rolling to one side to avoid the lashing blow, Kallian got to her feet and sprinted headlong towards the Broodmother. She hadn't gotten more than a few steps before two more of the Broodmother's tentacles shot up from the floor to impede her progress.

Vaulting over the low swipe of the first, she darted left and swung her sword into the other. To her surprise, the blade passed cleanly through the ropey muscle of the appendage and lopped off a considerable portion of the tentacle's length.

Writhing in agony, the tentacle sprayed foul-smelling ichor from yawning wounds at its end. Shielding her face to avoid being blinding by the spray, Kallian cried out as something wrapped itself around her calf and abruptly yanked her off her feet.

She fell heavily and immediately tried to lean up to chop at the tentacle that gripped at her leg. Grunting as the constricting limb dragged her across the rocky floor of the cavern, Kallian finally managed slice a deep gouge across its side. With a violent tremor, the tentacle loosened long enough for her to kick free and scramble away.

"Kallian! I could really use some help!" Leliana's shout made her jerk up.

Looking over, she saw that the bard had been cornered against a boulder and the far wall by one of the other tentacles. Desperately slashing with her small dagger, Leliana was doing her best to keep the tentacle from dragging her out of the narrow space in which she was wedged.

Crossing the distance between them quickly, Kallian cut most of the way through the offending appendage with her first blow and then severed it with the second. Kallian reached out her hand and tugged Leliana out of the crevice. "Start shooting the Broodmother, I'll cover you."

In response, Leliana drew an arrow out of the quiver at her side and fired it at the Broodmother without even having to aim. The shaft flew true in spite of this and buried itself deep into the torso of their foe. Flinching in pain, the Broodmother glared over at them with its vicious little eyes.

Just then, a bright flash of lighting tore across the battle field to slam into the creature's side. Squealing louder than ever, the Broodmother began writhe about in undulating waves of fat as it clutched at the horrific burn the lighting had caused.

Morrigan stepped forward with a ball of lightning in her hand and a smile on her face. Waving her hand back, the witch swept it forward and pointed it towards the Darkspawn breeder. Forked lighting sprang from her fingertips and shot off to blow another charred hole into the Broodmother's side.

Almost as if this had been a signal, a small force of Hurlocks and Genlocks came pouring out from a pathway that curled behind the Broodmother. Howling and snarling, the Darkspawn headed straight towards where Wynne and Morrigan were standing.

Leliana started. "We have to help them!"

"No!" Kallian caught her arm and pointed towards the Broodmother. "Sten and Alistair are over there, they can handle a few Darkspawn. Take out the Broodmother!"

After a moment's hesitation, Leliana turned back and fitted another arrow another arrow to her string. Setting her mouth into a firm line and readying her sword, Kallian tensed her muscles and gazed about warily as the bard began to fire. Her caution was validated when a tentacle erupted from nearby to deal with the threat of Leliana's archery. Before it could even rear back to gain some momentum, Kallian was on it with her sword already hacking downwards.

She chopped at the thrashing tentacle until it withdrew back into the ground in hasty retreat. Smirking in satisfaction, Kallian stepped back just as another arrow whizzed overhead to bury itself in the Broodmother's rubbery flesh. By this point, the monster was beginning to resemble the world's ugliest pincushion.

"Darkspawn to the right!"

Whipping her head around at Leliana's warning, Kallian snarled a curse and dashed back to meet the small group of Hurlocks and Genlocks. She parried the blade of a Hurlock and followed through with a vicious cut sent his guts spilling out onto the floor.

Admittedly, she had been a little rusty, but the training her mother had given her in swordplay was coming back to her very quickly. Lacking a shield, she focused on the quick, circular motions that the Dalish warriors purportedly favored. Battering aside a Genlock's blade with a flourish, Kallian swept her sword across its chest with a diagonal slash that sent a font of blood into air.

Clearing out the last of the Darkspawn with a fancy maneuver that her mother had always frowned upon, Kallian tossed a glance over her shoulder to see how Leliana was doing. Though the bard was still firing at steady pace; Kallian saw that her arrows were dwindling rapidly.

Then, she noticed what Zevran was doing.

Somehow managing to dodge all three of tentacles that the Broodmother sent at him, the wiry assassin closed the distance to their foe at a sprint. Once he was close enough, Zevran jumped up and began to physically climb the Broodmother using the arrows that Leliana had shot into its flesh.

Blinking in disbelief, Kallian struck Leliana on the shoulder as she ran past. "Support him in any way you can!"

Not waiting to hear the other woman's reply, Kallian raced across the middle of the room and hacked at the nearest tentacle in an attempt to keep its attention off of the assassin. Dodging its retaliatory swipe, she risked a quick look up to try and figure out what on the Maker's green earth Zevran was planning.

Whatever it was, it seemed like it was well under way. He now sat on the Broodmother's shoulders with his legs straddling its nearly nonexistent neck. One of his hands was fumbling at something on his belt while the other was hooked around the creature's head in order to steady himself as it thrashed beneath him.

After a moment of this bizarre scene, Zevran's hand came up with a small bottle that he opened with his teeth. Spitting out the cork, he gripped the Broodmother's brow with his free hand and yanked its head back. As Kallian watched, he forced the neck of the bottle into the creature's mouth and poured the contents down its throat.

Tossing the empty bottle away with a careless gesture, Zevran unwrapped his legs from its neck and rolled off its shoulders and down its side. He somehow managed to land on his feet and practically danced away from the questing tentacles that darted after him. Catching her eye, the assassin gave her a cheery wave as he sidestepped a final tentacle and slowed to a trot as he reached her.

"Well, that _was_ bracing"

Behind him, the monstrous form of the Broodmother gave a hideous shudder that sent its rolls of fat into an obscene quiver. With what was far and away the most unpleasant noise Kallian had ever heard, the Broodmother retched loudly before vomiting a seemingly endless torrent of black liquid. Around them, the tentacles fell limp and lifeless to the floor of the cavern. Kallian watched in a kind of disgusted fascination as the Broodmother spewed the unmentionable liquid from its great gaping maw.

"What did you do to it?"

Zevran shrugged. "They call it the 'black sleep' although I have no idea why. It is one of the most potent, if not the most subtle, poisons known."

Hacking and twitching weakly, the Broodmother lifted its face and gave them all a look of profound hatred. Lifting its arms as high as they could reach, the creature brought them down sharply. This final act of defiance completed, the creature slumped forward and went still. Scratching her head at the rather anticlimactic gesture, Kallian shrugged slightly and sheathed her sword.

Then, the rumbling began.

All around them, more tentacles burst free of the walls and ceiling in great showers of dirt and stone. Unlike the ones that had come before, these were already lifeless and inanimate when they appeared. Slightly confused, it took Kallian a moment to release what was about to happen.

Alistair beat her to it. "She's bringing down the chamber! Get to the exits!"

Kallian made as if to go back towards Leliana, but a great shower of dust from the ceiling made her halt in her tracks. An instant later, a gigantic boulder slammed down in front of her with a tremendous crack. Backpedaling wildly, Kallian turned around in midflight and ran towards the only other exit.

Stumbling as the ground shook and trembled beneath her, Kallian felt her lungs burning as she sprinted towards the far hallway. For a moment, she thought she was alone, but then she heard the heavy clamor of armor behind. Looking over her shoulder, she caught a quick glimpse of Alistair's sweaty face a few yards away.

They had just cleared the doorway when everything went to hell.

In a roar of unparalleled magnitude, the chamber collapsed downwards in a single instant of destruction. Great hunks of the walls and ceiling rained down around them like a murderous hail. Blinded by the choking clouds of dust, Kallian run as fast as she could and prayed they wouldn't run into a dead end. Just when she thought they would escape, something solid struck Kallian in the back and sent her flying forward in a haphazard sprawl. Well aware that stopping right now would be fatal; Kallian rolled with her momentum and pushed herself up with her arms.

Stumbling to her feet, she started running again even as debris pelted her from above. Coughing and blinking away tears from the dust that filled the air, she kept up her breakneck pace until her foot caught on something and she fell heavily. Curling into a ball, she covered the back of her head and neck and prayed as she had never prayed before.

She groaned as chunks of stone thudded against the bruises on her back and ribs. It was painful, but the reinforced padding of her jacket took the brunt of the battering and spared her more broken bones. An eternity of chaotic noise and movement later, everything went still.

Cautiously, as though a sudden move might set it all off again, Kallian uncurled from her protective posture and slowly began to push her way free of the debris that had fallen over her. Hissing in pain at the myriad of aches and pains that shot through her body, Kallian coughed a few times and looked around in wonder.

It truly was a miracle that she had survived.

The hallway that she stood in looked as though it had just barely avoided collapsing along with the chamber they had left. Great pieces of masonry had been knocked loose of the walls, and Kallian found herself wondering how long the ceiling would hold without their support. Pushing the thought down, she carefully backtracked down the ruined corridor as she looked for Alistair.

She tried to call out, but the attempt resulted in nothing more than a coughing fit. Swallowing hard, Kallian cleared her throat and then tried again. "Alistair?"

No response.

"Alistair?" Kallian peered into the dim light of the tunnel as she moved back a little further back. Just as she was about to call out his name once again, she managed to pick out the faint sheen of steel in the midst of the swirling dust. Coughing again, she stumbled over and bent down next to him.

He was in extremely bad shape. Face down in the dirt, Alistair lay unmoving and lifeless beneath the remnants of one of the great pillars. He was almost entirely covered, only his left arm and head were visible. The rest of his body was hidden beneath the pile of heavy stone. Tugging off one of her gloves, Kallian placed her two fingers against the side of his neck in the way that her mother had taught her. Though it was ominously weak, she could still feel a pulse. Slowly, she withdrew the hand and settled back to rest on the balls of her feet as she looked down at her fellow Grey Warden.

Blood oozed from a wound on his forehead to mix with the layer of dust that obscured his handsome features. She had no idea how badly he was injured, but if there was serious internal bleeding, he'd need Wynne's magic if he was to have any chance of survival.

Her gaze drifted up to the pile of stone that covered him. Without any leverage and as injured as he most likely was, there wouldn't be any way for him to free himself without her assistance. For a long moment, Kallian considered the implications of that.

Shaking her head, she bent down and tried to figure out which of the stones she could move without causing any further injury. Angry as she was at Alistair, she wasn't so far gone as to think that burying her secret would be worth his life. There were ways to deal with that issue, but this wasn't one of them.

Kallian gripped a rock near the top of the pile and hefted it off with both hands. Heaving it to one side, she reached for the next bit of stone. Pausing slightly when Alistair gave a weak grown, Kallian waited to see if he would awaken before she returned to her task. Even as she worked, a small feeling a satisfaction welled up inside of her.

Battered, bruised, and exhausted, she was nonetheless alive.

And that was something.

* * *

So, I actually cut six thousand words from this chapter. Some of which will work better in later chapters, but most of it was just extraneous material that shifted the tone even more. I had an entirely different dream sequence at the start of the chapter, but I changed it because I'm not quite ready to advance the plot line that it pertained to. Also, I briefly toyed with the idea of having Kallian almost walk away and leave Alistair to die, but I cut it because it seemed needlessly melodramatic and stilted.

Things I would love to hear feedback on include: the two group fight scenes (were they chaotic and hard to follow?), and any general comments you may have on how I'm presenting the charectars and the enviorment itself.

Also, was that not an awesome fart joke? I take unconditional pride in very few things, and that fart joke was one of them.

I'm stuck in the middle of dead week with a very intimadating finals week looming on the horizon so my next chapter might not come out for 10+ days depending on a few factors. So, I will apologize in advance for that. Thanks as always for the wonderful reviews (last chapter's were particularly awesome) and I am going to go get Dragon Age 2 now.


	16. The Labyrinth

A/N: Sorry for the huge delay in updating. It was mostly my fault but I've been unable to post a chapter for the last few days b/c of an error message from . I wish I could say I had a huge update to make up for it, but this one is kind of short. Also, it was produced in a vicious combination of stress, long nights, and binge drinking so it may be a little odd.

Chapter 16: The Labyrinth

Deep Roads

* * *

xxXxx

He tried not to touch her.

It was difficult to avoid touching someone who was supporting one's weight, but Alistair did his best nonetheless. Not only was Kallian clearly displeased with the situation, but he also feared that leaning too heavily on her would send them both to the ground. Even with most of his armor removed, he had to weigh at least twice what she did.

The height difference between the two of them created even more problems for him. As it was, he was forced to lean down in order to accept the support she was providing. It was hardly a comfortable arrangement, but it was still infinitely better than attempting to walk with a severely broken leg.

He supposed that he should be feeling fortunate to have survived the cave-in at all, but it was difficult to look on the bright side when every single part of his body hurt this badly. Still, it would have been a whole lot worse if it hadn't been for the fact that Kallian had given him several healing tonics after she had dug him out of the debris. In addition to tasting like old milk mixed with asparagus, those tonics had contained a delightful amount of opiates. They may not have helped him heal all that much, but they sure made him feel happier.

Even so, the warm haze of the drugs wasn't quite strong enough to block out all of the pain that radiated from his various injuries. He let out a slight grunt as he stumbled and a bolt of pain raced up his injured leg to stab into his brain. Raising his free hand up to wipe at the sweat that beaded along his brow, Alistair turned his head towards Kallian and decided to see if he take his mind off of his injuries.

"Do you think the others are alright?" His voice sounded odd to his own ears.

"For the last time Alistair, I don't know."

"Have I asked that before?"

Kallian gave a sigh. "Yes"

Alistair fell silent as he considered that rather surprising revelation. He had the dimmest recollection of speaking with Kallian earlier, but he couldn't quite remember what they had spoken about. It was a little difficult to process information through the fog in his mind.

"Have I thanked you for saving me?"

"Yes"

"Oh….well, it's just that I really appreciate it and everything."

"So you've said."

"Do you have any more of those tonics?"

"No"

He lowered his head sadly and turned his attention to walking properly. This required a great deal more concentration that he would have expected, but it also helped to give him something to do. After a few minutes of careful experimentation, it seemed to Alistair that he had finally found a rhythm that worked with Kallian's shorter stride.

Gradually, the passageway that they were following began to slope upwards until it became steep enough to cause complications. He was forced to lean heavily on her shoulder, and soon her breath began to come out in ragged pants as she tried to handle the extra weight. Just when he felt like they would have to stop in order to get some rest, the passage abruptly leveled out and came to an end in front of two wide doors.

Kallian cleared her throat. "This looks promising."

The elf reached out and pressed against the left door. To his surprise, the door slid open easily, and without any of the creaks one would expect to find in a place this old. He was so focused on the door that he missed what lay beyond until Kallian's small gasp made him jerk his head up.

What lay before them could only be the famed Anvil of the Void. Even though Alistair had no idea what it was supposed to look like, he assumed that there could only be some many glowing anvils lying around. Bright veins of lyrium flared out from the metallic surface in abstract patterns that illuminated their surroundings. Though it could have been a side effect of the opiates in his blood, Alistair swore that he saw a faint mist rising from the Anvil's wide base.

"Wow…..that's pretty."

Beside him, Kallian made a small noise of agreement as they slowly shuffled into the cavernous room. Though the Anvil was surrounded by decorative architecture, it all seemed to pale in comparison to the ancient artifact that dominated the center of the area.

For a moment, Alistair could only stare at it stupidly. "This has to be the thing that paragon lady is looking for."

"You mean Branka?" Kallian glanced around the room. "Well, if it is, it doesn't look like she's managed to find it."

"I wonder how it works."

Kallian scoffed. "I wonder how much it's worth."

"The Anvil of the Void is priceless." The words exploded out from behind them in the deepest voice Alistair had ever heard. "There is nothing else like it in the known world. For that, you and every other living thing should be grateful."

An instant later, Alistair found himself without any support as Kallian ducked out from underneath his arm and spun around to face the new arrival. Arms flailing madly, Alistair tried to follow her motion and ended up collapsing in a heap of pain and misery. Groaning to voice his displeasure, Alistair raised his head only to be greeted with a sight that sobered him up somewhat.

The golem that stared down at them was the largest that Alistair had ever seen. While golems were rather tall as a general rule, this one stood a good two feet higher than the ones that Alistair had encountered previously. The effect was increased even further by the ornate armor that adorned the golem's head and shoulders. Exactly how something this big had managed to sneak up on them was a mystery that was currently melting Alistair's brain.

_Maybe the Anvil can make golems invisible…oh Maker, they could be anywhere!_

Kallian had drawn her sword out of reflex, but was now slowly lowering it to her side as she stared up at the golem with wide eyes. She had unconsciously backed up a few steps and Alistair couldn't help but feel as though it wasn't nearly enough.

"Kallian, you have to watch out….invisible golems." The words were an effort to force out, but he had to warn her.

"…Now is not the time, Alistair"

The golem peered at Alistair. "Now this is a curious thing: an elf maid and a human traveling in the Deep Roads. It has been over a thousand years since I have seen a topsider of any sort. It is enough to make an old dwarf wonder if the world has changed in his absence."

Alistair shook his head. "It's a trick, he is not a dwarf. Dwarves are short."

"Alistair? Do me a favor and shut the fuck up for a while." Kallian frowned at him before facing the golem once again. "Forgive us, my friend is a little…ah, ill at the moment, and he doesn't know what he is saying. My name is Kallian and we are Grey Wardens."

She sounded a whole lot more polite than usual, but Alistair supposed that he would also be polite if he was in imminent danger of being squished by a monstrous golem. It was a reasonable concern; the golem was looming overhead in a manner that could be construed as threatening.

"Grey Wardens is it?" The golem eased up on the looming just slightly. "The Stone has spoken to me of your kind in the recent centuries. It tells me of your struggle with the Great Darkness, and of what your kind sacrifices for that conflict. Still, none of you have ever reached far enough to come before me."

"Yeah, we're only down here because we are looking for someone." Kallian gave a nervous sort of chuckle. "Sorry to ask, but who exactly are you anyway?"

The golem craned its head. "Forgive me; all this time in my own company seems to have robbed me of my manners. You may call me Caridin if you wish."

"As in…Caridin's Cross?"

"Yes, I am he." Caridin spread his great arms out in an encompassing gesture. "However, what you see before you is a mere shadow of the man I once was. A millennia ago, I walked this earth as a paragon of the dwarven people. Now, I am but a testament to my own folly."

Alistair raised his hand. "Can I say something?"

"No, you can't." Kallian glared at him meaningfully before plastering on a pleasant-looking smile for the golem. "I'm a little confused Caridin, how is it that you are a golem if you were once a dwarf?"

"You mean to say that the secret of my creation is still unknown?" Caridin sounded surprised.

"Uh…that depends, what's the secret?"

"Tell me something Ser Warden, why is it that the dwarves no longer make golems?"

Kallian shrugged. "I never really thought about it."

"It is not for a lack of trying; I can tell you that without having set foot in Orzammar for a thousand years." Caridin turned slightly to regard the Anvil. "The production of the war golems was the most lucrative and beneficial venture that ever took place in the dwarven kingdom. Yet, it seems as if I am the only one who has ever solved inherent dilemma that surrounds the act of animating the inanimate."

Propping himself up on an elbow, Alistair tried his best to focus on the golem's words. Even though he was not exactly operating at full capacity, he was grounded enough to realize that this was a rather important part of the conversation. "How did you do it?"

"I realized after many attempts that forging life was beyond the reach of even the greatest of smiths." Caridin's voice held a sour note of self-loathing. "So, I endeavored to craft a device capable of taking the soul of a living person and permanently transferring it into the body of golem. Had it not been for the miraculous properties of lyrium, I doubt that even this parody of life would have been possible."

Alistair felt his jaw fall open as he stared over at the paragon. "You mean the Anvil turns people into golems?"

"That's something of a simplification, but yes, essentially."

"Wow…that is really, really creepy."

Kallian ran a hand down her face. "Alistair…."

"No, he is quite right in his assessment." Caridin gave him a grave nod. "The Anvil is a terrible device that should never have been brought into being. To call it 'creepy' is perhaps the kindest thing that could be said about it."

The elf frowned. "So why'd you even make the thing if you feel so strongly about it?"

"I was shortsighted and in love with my own genius. Furthermore, it simply did not seem like such a poor decision at the time." Caridin shrugged: a very bizarre gesture for a golem to make. "We were besieged by the Darkspawn and there were no shortage of volunteers. It was only later that things grew beyond the scope of rationality."

"How so?"

Caridin turned away from the Anvil with a deep sigh. "The demand for the golems only increased over time, but the number of volunteers was finite. After a point, the king decided that if we could no longer find volunteers, we would simply take the undesirable elements of the city and use them to make up the difference. Before I knew it, we had begun to utilize unwilling subjects from the prisons and poorer districts. They were men, women, and even a few children."

A thick silence fell over the three of them and Alistair gave the Anvil an appraising look. All of a sudden, the bright glow of the lyrium veins seemed a great deal more sinister than it had before. Perversely, he found himself wondering how exactly the soul was extracted. Aside from the lyrium, it didn't seem all that different from a regular anvil.

_So, does he like, hammer out the soul or something?_

Kallian cleared her throat. "Are they all like you? I mean, can they talk?"

"Only golems that are free from the control of their power rod are capable of speaking." Caridin looked down at the ground. "The others are incapable of any action without the expressive permission from their controller. They retain their consciousness, but they are helpless to resist."

An odd spasm flashed across Kallian's face and she folded her arms tightly across her chest. "That's horrible."

"Yes, yes it is."

Alistair watched with a kind of detached fascination as the massive golem seemed to bow beneath the weight of his own remorse. It probably wasn't the best moment to interject into the conversation, but Alistair was growing tired of lying on the very uncomfortable stone floor. "Excuse me, but would anyone mind giving me a hand?"

Kallian looked down at him with a blank expression before she started. "Oh right, I forgot about that. Caridin, would you mind giving him some help up?"

"Of course, Ser Warden"

"Uh, that's not really necessary, I'm sure that Kallian could help." Alistair gave the approaching golem a nervous look. "Really, you don't have to…"

He closed his eyes in trepidation as the golem bent down to scoop him up. With a surprising gentle motion, Caridin plucked him off of the floor and cradled him in his arms as though Alistair were a favorite cat. Feeling very small all of a sudden, Alistair opened his eyes and gave Caridin a shaky smile.

Kallian smirked up at them. "You can just set him over there. He'll probably be happier sitting down than standing anyway."

Caridin rumbled in agreement before moving over to set Alistair down on a hunk of stone that looked as though it had once been one of the statues that lined the walls of the room. Nodding in thanks, Alistair breathed a little easier once the ten-foot tall mountain of metal had backed off a little. Even though it now appeared that as though the paragon wasn't planning on killing them, he had to admit that he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation.

"So Caridin," Kallian strolled over looking entirely too pleased by Alistair's discomfort. "You mentioned earlier that 'the Stone had told you' about the Grey Wardens, did you mean that literally?"

The golem nodded. "It speaks to those who take the time to listen."

"Uh-huh, well did it happen to mention anyone else down here? We came down here with a few friends and we got separated from them earlier by a cave-in."

"The Stone does not speak of such things. It does not concern itself with the minor events it witnesses." Caridin reached out a hand to pat the stone wall by his head. "The Stone recognizes trends and the shifts that occur over time. It would not even understand the importance of a few topsiders."

Kallian sighed. "Then I suppose it also won't be able to help us find Branka."

The effect of that statement was profound.

"BRANKA!" Caridin's shout reverberated inside of Alistair's chest and he saw Kallian flinch backwards as Caridin rounded on her with both of his fists clenched. "You wish to find that woman? You wish to help her realize her MADNESS!"

In the face of the golem's sudden rage, Kallian had stumbled back with both her hands raised up in a conciliatory gesture. "W-what?"

"Has my creation not caused enough harm? Would you see that harm compounded?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Kallian retreated until her back was pressed against the wall. "All we want is to get Branka to support a successor to the throne. Alistair, help me out here!"

Alistair blinked. "Err…yeah, you won't find us realizing any madness around here."

For a long moment, Caridin just stood over the cowering elf with both hands held at the ready. Just as Alistair was about to try his luck at a more convincing argument, the massive golem lowered his head down to Kallian's eye level and spoke very slowly. "Swear to me Ser Warden; swear that you are not here on that woman's behalf."

"We've never even met Branka before. All we came looking for was the support of a paragon." Kallian spoke quickly.

"The support of a paragon?" Caridin drew back thoughtfully. "If that is truly all that you desire, then perhaps we could help each other after all."

"Oh?" Kallian was still pressed against the wall as though she were trying to become part of the stone.

"Yes, I could grant you the support you desire in return for your assistance."

Alistair scratched at his chin. "How would you do that? I mean, would you be willing to come with us back to Orzammar? Some of the tunnels we came through were awfully narrow and I think that you would have a hard time fitting."

"That won't be a problem." Caridin waved off his concern. "All that matters is that you help me destroy the Anvil and I will find a way to aid you."

Kallian coughed politely. "Why can't you destroy it yourself?"

"I am forbidden to take action against it."

"Well, in that case, I don't see why not." Kallian cautiously pushed away from the wall. "I'd sleep better knowing something like that didn't exist."

"Excellent, then it is settled." Caridin raised a hand and shook Kallian's entire forearm. "I will need to use the Anvil in order to aid you, but afterward the two of you may assist me in the destroying the lyrium veins that run through it. Thankfully, it will not be as difficult as you might think."

Alistair nodded sagely. "That's good, because we are practically incompetent."

"Shut up Alistair."

…

xxXxx

Kallian reappeared a little over an hour after she had left.

As she was wont to do, she more or less appeared at his side without making a sound. Manfully surprising the urge to squeal in surprise, Alistair hastily levered himself into a sitting position and gave her an expectant look. "So, did you manage to find them?"

"Mmmhmm…Caridin's hunch was a good one; they're down the eastern passage. They'll be here in a few minutes if they keep traveling at the same speed."

"You didn't wait for them?"

Kallian took off her backpack and set in on the ground in front of her. "No, I thought it would be best if they came here first."

"Why?"

Flashing him an unreadable look, Kallian knelt down in front of her pack and proceeded to unfasten the flap. After a quick moment of rummaging through the contents, the elf drew out small object that was wrapped in cloth. With an underhanded throw, she tossed it over to him. "I also found this when I was poking around in the passage. We need to show it to Caridin, but I felt like it would be disrespectable to do that while Oghren was around."

Frowning at the rather uncomfortably ominous introduction, Alistair gingerly unfolded the layers of cotton to peer at the object inside. He immediately recoiled in disgust and quickly covered the grisly hunk of meat back in the folds of the cloth. Shaking his head, Alistair passed it back to Kallian. "Let me guess….Branka?"

"Yep"

"Did you kill her?"

"Nah, it looks like the cave-in brought most of a wall down on her." Kallian smiled her lopsided smile. "Kinda ironic if you think about it. If she hadn't betrayed those dwarves, one of them wouldn't have become the Broodmother that collapsed the tunnels. Sounds a bit like divine justice to me."

"If you say so." Kallian's good humor was prompting a rather sick feeling in Alistair's stomach. He wondered if it would kill her to show a little respect for the dead. "What about the rest of her? Are the others going to stumble onto her corpse on the way here?"

Kallian shrugged. "It's possible I guess, but she's buried under a whole lot of wall. I'm not even sure how I managed to find her."

With that, the elf hefted her little trophy and padded over to where Caridin was hammering away at something on his Anvil. Now that the drugs had worn off somewhat, Alistair was beginning to question the wisdom of partnering with a thousand-year old golem who spoke to rocks. Admittedly, it wasn't like they had many options, but it still seemed somewhat foolhardy.

Grumbling to himself about nothing in particular, Alistair leaned his head back against the base of the collapsed statue and closed his eyes. He was just dozing off when someone swatted him on the arm hard enough to jerk up back into wakefulness.

Kallian stared down at him. "You've got a head wound, you shouldn't fall asleep."

"What, suddenly you're a healer now?" Alistair's tone sounded a lot snider than he had intended.

"Don't get all grumpy just because you got a little banged up." Kallian took a seat on the statue and began fiddling with one of her knives. "That's common knowledge and it could save your life."

Alistair sighed. "Sorry, I'm just a little short-tempered right now."

"Just stay awake until Wynne shows up. Then you can do whatever the hell you please."

He gave a short nod of agreement and settled back to wait for the others to arrive. Kallian didn't seem inclined to start a conversation and Alistair was perfectly fine with that arraignment. All he wanted right now was for some magic healing and a couple days' sleep.

Failing that, he'd take some more drugged health tonics. Lots of them.

Sometime later, the sound of muffled footsteps preceded the arrival of the rest of their companions. Just as Kallian had indicated, they appeared from the eastern corridor in a tight formation. Alistair felt a small smile break out on his lips when the group came to a dead stop at the sight of them.

Kallian sheathed the knife she was toying with. "Well, it sure took you all long enough."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Leliana gave a short laugh from where she stood at the center of the group. "You might have mentioned that you were waiting."

"We could have," Alistair nodded thoughtfully. "But imagine how much less dramatic this would have been."

The reunited group came together with a small chorus of murmured greetings and a collective sense of relaxation. Trading a short nod with Sten, Alistair caught a glimpse of Kallian walking over to pull Oghren to one side. He was about to call out to her when his view was suddenly blocked

"Maker above Alistair, what did you manage to do to yourself?"

Alistair cast a quick look down and took in the sight of his badly dented armor. Like the rest of him, the armor was covered in an unpleasant assortment of dried blood and grey dust. He had briefly tried to clean some of it off earlier, but had abandoned the attempt on account of it being utterly futile.

He blinked. "It's not my fault that an entire pillar fell on me. If anything, I'd say I'm looking pretty good all things considered."

"That's a matter of opinion." She shook her head in what he hoped was amazement. "Alright then, let's take a look at the leg of yours."

A moment later, Alistair sighed in relief as Wynne poured some of her wondrous magic into his broken leg. Peering over her shoulder, Alistair watched as Oghren's face turned white as Kallian spoke to him. He could only imagine what the elf was saying about Branka's death, but it couldn't possibly be sitting well with Oghren. Kallian finished whatever she was saying and then tried to place a hand on the dwarf's armored shoulder. Oghren shook her off angrily and stomped away to deal with his loss in private.

Alistair felt a wave of pity rise in him. What must it feel like to come all this way only to find out that Branka had died in a freak accident?

"So then, you're alive after all." Morrigan leaned on her staff with a sharp smirk on her full lips. "'Tis somewhat disappointing, I had already considered the implications of our group being led by a capable leader for a change of pace."

He grinned. "Admit it, you missed me."

The witch gave a small scoff of disbelief before turning on her heel and striding over to where Kallian was speaking with Leliana. Alistair smiled when he saw the elf grin at something the bard had said. It was good that the two of them were becoming friends. Kallian had been spending entirely too much time with Morrigan before Leliana had begun making an effort to get to know her.

If Alistair was certain of one thing, it was that no good came from associating with Morrigan.

A tremendous surge of pain from his broken snapped him out of his thoughts with a sickening jolt. It didn't last long, but it was so intense that his mind stopped working momentarily. Too shocked to even yelp, he just looked down at Wynne in stupefied silence.

The mage patted his thigh reassuringly. "It had to happen, and I've found that people prefer it when I don't give any warning. On the bright side, you should be able to walk now."

Not quite trusting himself to speak without whimpering, Alistair eased himself off of the statue and let his weight rest on his bad leg. He winced as a twinge of pain shot through his shin, but other than that he seemed to be alright. Thanking Wynne profusely, Alistair limped over in time to see Caridin walk up to the group with something held in his hands.

Once Alistair drew nearer, he saw that it was an ornate crown of incredible complexity. He had no idea how the paragon had manage to forge something like this in such a short time. With a pleased rumble, Caridin handed the crown to Kallian with a nod of his massive head.

"Give this to whomever you think best suited to rule the dwarves. It will serve as proof of my support."

Kallian turned the crown over in her hands. "Thanks Caridin"

"The pleasure is mine Ser Warden." The golem bowed to her. "Now then, I think it is time we put my greatest creation to rest."

Caridin turned around and walked back towards the Anvil of the Void. Exchanging a quick look with Kallian, Alistair followed him up the steps leading to the Anvil while wondering exactly how they were going to manage to destroy an ancient artifact that had stood for thousands of years. At his side, Kallian looked wholly unconcerned with the entire situation.

The three of them came to a halt around the glowing anvil. Then, with one finger, Caridin pointed to a small dial that stood near the base of the Anvil. "Turn that to the right."

Kallian bent down and gave the dial a small twist.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then the lyrium in the Anvil began to glow far brighter than ever. Shielding his eyes against the glow, Alistair watched in disbelief as the entire thing began to crumble in to dust before his very eyes. After a few moments of this, a small heap of gravel was all that remained of the Anvil of the Void.

"…"

"…"

"..."

Alistair scratched his head. "Huh…I thought it would be harder."

* * *

I pretty much disregarded that entire section of the game. Honestly, I'm just sick of talking about Orzammar and want to get on to developing Kallian and Leliana's relationship in the next chapter. THhankfully, that chapter is unimpeded by either writers block or finals and should be out by the end of the weekend or monday at the latest.

Super big thanks to everyone for reading, and especially to those who are awesome enough to read and review. Quick shout out to you anonymous reviewers, I feel bad because I can't reply to your reviews in depth but I do appreciate your feed back.


	17. Your Hand In Mine

A/N: Skipping ahead quite a bit here but I don't really care b/c this scene has been bouncing around in my head for weeks. I'm rather happy with it and this entire chapter is dedicated to those of you who have been waiting patiently for this to turn into a Kallian/Leliana fic for real. Lots of shy, fluffy-type stuff in this one.

Chapter 17: Your Hand In Mine

The Imperial Highway

* * *

Cold though it may be, Leliana would readily admit that a fresh snow was one of her favorite things.

In the evening's dying light, the soft, powdery snow glimmered around her like a drape of white cloth that had settled over the landscape and the trees with equal ambivalence. Though the heaviest period of snowfall had been hours ago, small flakes stilled swirled about to pleasantly accent the existing accumulation.

The part she liked best was the peace that snow seemed to bring about. Under the blanket of winter, the forest around them took on the certain type of respectful stillness that was particular to private libraries and Chantries. Leliana felt at ease when it was like this; it seemed as if nothing bad could happen when there was such beauty surrounding her.

It was a little cold to be sure, but with her furs and heavy cloak, that was hardly an inconvenience.

Leliana took a deep breath and smiled as the frozen air tickled her throat. After spending over a week underground, she found the open air to be intoxicating. If she never had to set foot in another tunnel, it would be entirely too soon.

"Hey Leliana, would you mind taking this over to Kallian?" Alistair pulled a pot of gently steaming water off of the camp fire. "I let it get a bit too hot, but it should be fine if she lets it cool off for a few minutes."

She took it from him eagerly. "It would be my pleasure, are you sure there is nothing else I can do to help?"

"I'm a hundred-percent certain; you were the one who cooked so you don't have to clean." Alistair offered her a charming smile before picking up his hatchet. "Alright, well I am going to go off and get us enough firewood to last the night. If Sten comes back from wherever he got off to, let him know that I saved his portion by the fire."

"Of course"

Alistair gave a little wave as he strode off towards the tree line. She watched him go with a smile before she hefted the pot of water in both hands and began walking towards the small stream that ran along the east side of their camp. Alistair was one of the few genuinely good-natured people she had ever met. He wasn't perfect of course, but she had a feeling that Thedas would be a far kinder place if there were more people like him living in it.

She came across Kallian just as the elf had finished dunking the cooking pot in the dark water of the stream. Though the water level was low due to the season, it stilled flowed freely along the high banks. As she approached, Kallian looked up and tilted her head. "I hope that's the hot water Alistair promised?"

"Yes, though he said that it might be a little too warm."

Kallian shrugged. "Not a problem, another minute of washing in the stream and I think my hands would've frozen off."

Moving a little closer, Leliana set the pot of water down alongside the elf. Immediately, Kallian reached over to the stack of dirty dishes at her side and plucked one of their wooden plates off the top. She quickly washed it in the stream before dunking it in the steaming contents of the pot. Kallian made a pleased exclamation as she submerged her hands in the warm water.

"Ahhh….that's better."

Leliana stepped around the pot and sat down on a small rock. "Would you mind if I help? I hate to sit around while others are working."

"Thanks, but I think I got this pretty much handled." Kallian lifted the plate from the water and began to scrub at it with a handful of river sand. "But, if you feel like keeping me company while I do it, I wouldn't say no to you passing me the plates."

"I'm honored that you would trust me with such a thing." Leliana made her voice sound as grave as possible as she reached over to hand Kallian the next dish off of the pile.

Kallian smirked at her. "Yeah, well, you've earned it."

Leliana laughed softly and leaned forward to rest her forearms on top of her knees. Without anything else to do, she divided her time between staring at the picturesque landscape and the woman beside her. After a few moments of peaceful contemplation, Leliana passed another dish to Kallian and spoke up. "So, how are your lessons with Wynne going?"

"You mean the reading thing?" Kallian made a face. "It's hard to say which of us is getting more frustrated with the other."

"Oh? Wynne gave me the impression you were doing well."

"I don't know who she's teaching, but it sure as hell isn't me. I haven't gotten past the 'A is for Apple' part and we've been going at it ever since we got out of the Deep Roads."

Leliana gamely suppressed a smile. "It gets easier; you'll be mastering the letter 'E' before you know it."

"If you say so, but I'm not so confident. What's worse is that it's just so damn boring; the stuff I'm learning from Zevran is _way _more interesting." Kallian passed her one of the clean plates and took a dirty one from her hands. "It's probably going to be a lot more useful as well."

The smile dropped off of Leliana's lips at the mention of the Antivan assassin. Glancing over her shoulder, she tossed a look over to where Zevran was sharing a flask of wine with Oghren. It didn't sit well with her knowing that he was spending time with Kallian. In spite of the help he had provided since his recruitment, Zevran just was just a little too sly for her to trust.

"I was not aware that you were learning anything from Zevran." Leliana kept her tone conversational as she glanced sidelong at the elf.

"Yep, he's taught me some blade work and a whole lot about poisons."

"…poisons?"

"I've been asking him about them ever since he used one to kill the Broodmother." Kallian suddenly became very animated. "Did you know that there are over a dozen lethal poisons that can be made out of Ferelden's native plants? He showed me one the other day that was colorless, odorless, and completely tasteless. It's called 'Mage's Bane' and it only affects magic users. I don't really know how it works, but it keeps them from using their spells for hours."

Leliana rubbed at her head. "That does sound useful."

"My thoughts exactly," Kallian passed her another clean plate. "I figure that it is important that I learn how to do more than just swing a sword. That's worked out pretty well so far, but it would be nice to have something else up my sleeve."

Suppressing the urge to question Kallian about the wisdom of her actions, Leliana forced herself to smile as she took the clean plate and set it aside. By accepting lessons from Zevran, Kallian was pretty much giving him the perfect opportunity to finish his contract. All he would have to do would be to slip her something during a training session and then claim that it had been an unhappy accident.

For the Maker's sake, it was like Kallian wantedto be assassinated.

She bit her bottom lip and let her gaze drift along the scenery as she tried to think of a way to take Kallian's mind off of poisons and knife fighting. It took a few moments, but she brightened when she thought of the perfect way to settle this.

Leliana turned to the elf and put just the right amount of suggestion in her tone. "You know Kallian, if you would like to learn something other than swordplay, I would be more than happy to provide a few _private _archery lessons. I've been told that I am extremely good at motivating my students."

A satisfied smile spread across her lips as she waited for the elf's response. Not only would archery practice give Kallian something else to focus on, but it would also present a few interesting opportunities. After all, sometimes the only way to correct someone's shooting posture was to wrap your arms around them and show them the proper way to hold a bow. It was an innocent gesture, but things tended to get a little intimate when two people ended up pressed together like that.

"Nah"

Leliana blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Thanks for the offer, I really appreciate it." Kallian gave her a friendly smile. "But I've never been that interested in that kind of thing. Besides, there's that whole stupid stereotype about how all elves know how to use bows. The Dalish might go for that type of thing, but I'll take a nice blade over a bow any day of the week."

Leliana pursed her lips and struggled to suppress a sigh of frustration as she stared down at her feet. Either she was a whole lot rustier than she had thought, or Kallian was simply the most oblivious person in all of Thedas.

Rather disheartened by the refusal, Leliana sat quietly for a few minutes as she helped with the dishes. While they worked, she found herself stealing quick glances at Kallian whenever the elf wasn't looking. There was something different about Kallian, and it took a minute for Leliana to place it.

"You're bandana…" Leliana tilted her head to get a better look at the other woman. "I've never seen you with your hair down before."

Kallian looked over at her with a grin. "Yeah, Wynne told me that she'd wash it for me. Said something about how it was collecting more dust than an encyclopedia in a brothel. I'm still not entirely sure what she meant by that."

"She said something similar about Alistair's socks." Leliana smiled as she studied Kallian closely. Her hair fell down around her face in mess of tousled strands that should have made her look unkempt. Instead, it softened some of sharp angles of her face and gave her a sleepy look that Leliana found appealing. "It looks nice like that. You should consider wearing it down more often."

"Maybe, but I'd prefer to get it shortened. I just need to find someone who could do it."

Leliana interlaced her fingers in front of her. "Well, I would be more than happy to cut it for you if you would like. I received plenty of practice with a pair of scissors during my time as a frivolous noblewoman."

"I'd like that."

"Then it is my pleasure. We can do it tomorrow, when there is some more light."

"Thanks Leliana."

They finished the rest of the dishes in a comfortable silence. After Kallian had cleaned out the last pot, Leliana helped her gather up the clean dishes so that they could carry them back to camp. Though it was now mostly dark, a full moon was beginning to pour its silvery light over the tree line. Far off to their right, she could see that Sten was occupied with throwing a stick for the Mabari to fetch. It was cute to see him playing with the animal even if he insisted that it was only "hunting practice".

As they passed by Morrigan's small fire, the witch looked up and gave them a short nod of acknowledgement. While Leliana wouldn't go so far as to say that she was on friendly terms with Morrigan, she felt that the mage was becoming more used to being around other people. She wasn't insulting the rest of them as much, which was certainly progress.

Leliana set her share of the dishes by the fire and watched as Kallian did the same. As soon as she had straightened up, the elf gave her an odd look before she jerked a thumb in the direction of her tent. "Uh, I'm going to go grab something real quick. Stay here for a minute?"

"Alright"

She watched as Kallian trotted off in the direction of her tent. Pulling her cloak a little tighter, Leliana walked over and stood a few feet away from the fire. It was rather nice there; the warmth of the fire was a comforting contrast to biting cold of the night's air.

It wasn't long before she heard the soft crunch of Kallian's boots as the elf returned. Keeping one hand concealed behind her back, Kallian walked over and stood next to Leliana. "So, I've got something I want to give to you."

"A gift?" Leliana arched a brow.

Receiving gifts had once been one of the most common occurrences in her life. When she had been a bard, the men she had targeted and seduced had often showered her in lavish tokens of their appreciation. Marjolaine had taught her that every gift said something about the giver. A golden bauble suggested that the giver thought that he or she could impress her with wealth, paintings and love poems spoke of insipidness, and clothing or jewels indicated a desire to mark her as their own. Gifts were the physical weapons of love and Leliana had soured on the entire prospect.

"Yeah…it's probably just stupid but maybe you'll like these." Kallian drew her hand out from behind her back and offered it to Leliana. Clenched in her fist, a small bouquet of flowers with tiny white petals gleamed in the warm light of the fire.

Leliana cocked her head. "Oh, flowers…"

She reached out and took the bouquet from Kallian's hand with a small twinge of disappointment. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the intention behind the act, but flowers had always been the warning flag of gifts in her experience. The people who had given her flowers had typically been either: cheap, uncreative, or hoping to buy her affections with the minimal amount of effort. She didn't think Kallian was motivated by any of that, but she had rather hoped for something more interesting.

"I saw them while we were walking this morning." Kallian stared down at where she was scuffing the toe of her boot in the snow. "They wouldn't have lasted long in the snow and after what you said about your mom and everything…I thought that you might like to see them again."

"My mother? What do you mean by—" Leliana broke off as she realized what she was holding. All at once, her throat grew tight and it felt like a lead weight had settled into her stomach. It had been ages since she had thought about, much less seen, her mother's favorite flowers.

"You remembered me telling you about that? Maker, it must have been a month ago." She stared over at elf in mild disbelief.

Kallian gave a nervous kind of shrug without looking up.

Running a gentle finger along the petals of the Andraste's Grace, Leliana took a breath and tried to collect herself. Kallian's gesture had taken her by surprise; this wasn't the type of gift she was used to accepting. She could handle something expensive or exotic, but this was an entirely different sort of thing. This felt…genuine.

"Thank you Kallian," Leliana spoke softly as she carefully tucked the flowers into a wide pouch on her belt. "This is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done to me."

Kallian finally looked up at her words. After a brief pause, the elf's face broke out into a shy smile that Leliana found infinitely endearing. It was astonishing how pretty Kallian could become when she dropped some of her defenses.

Acting on impulse, Leliana reached out and brushed a few of Kallian's black tresses behind her ear.

To her surprise, Kallian shut her eyes and gave a pronounced shiver at the contact. Wondering if she had misinterpreted the signals, Leliana hesitantly drew her hand back at the elf's strong reaction. "My apologies, am I being too forward?"

"What? No, no it's not that!" Kallian's eyes opened wide and she made a quick pacifying gesture with her hands. "It's just that our ears are kind of…..you know, sensitive."

"I did not know that." Leliana grinned in relief. "So, that was alright then?"

"Oh yeah, that was completely alright." Kallian's cheeks colored slightly as she peered up at Leliana. "You have really nice ones by the way."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your ears," Kallian waved at her own pointy ears for clarification. "They're really nice, for a human anyway."

A small surge of amusement rose up in Leliana at the elf's compliment. She had been flattered in many different ways over the years, but this was the first time anyone had ever commented on her ears in particular. "Well thank you, I must say that yours are quite lovely as well."

She had meant it mostly as a joke, but Leliana saw Kallian flush even darker before ducking her head to look at the ground again. There was something about her uncomplicated display of emotion that Leliana found appealing. It didn't feel like she was playing a game when she was talking to Kallian. This was perhaps the first relationship she had ever had that didn't require deception.

With that thought in mind, she decided to get something off her chest. "Would you mind if we sat down? There's something I should tell you."

"Sure"

Kallian gave her a slightly wary look before taking a seat on one of the logs that Sten had dragged in front of the fire before dinner. Disdaining the log that was closer to her, Leliana walked over and took a seat on the same log as Kallian. Flashing her a reassuring smile, Leliana fiddled with her fingers as she tried to figure out the best way to approach this. After a time, she settled on just blurting it out and hoping for the best.

"I lied to you, about what I said before."

Next to her, Kallian went stiff as a rod. "You lied?"

"I'm afraid so," Leliana gave her an apologetic look. "The reason I left Orlais wasn't quite as simple as I made it out to be. It was true that I grew disillusioned with being a bard, but the circumstances that led to that disillusionment were rather complicated."

"That's what you were lying about?" Kallian relaxed considerably. "Oh, I thought that…uh, never mind, go on."

Leliana nodded in agreement. "It's a rather long story, but I think it might help to explain why I came to be in this country in the manner that I did. You see, I did not leave Orlais so much as I was forced to flee after I was accused of treason."

Kallian looked rather taken aback. "Err…that's much more interesting I'll admit."

"I was falsely accused." Leliana frowned to herself as she thought back to her last days as a bard. "As a result of a betrayal by someone I thought I could've trusted with my life. She was my bard-master, a woman by the name of Marjolaine. It was through her that I found the fulfillment I had so craved. Marjolaine taught me how to deceive, how to charm, and how to kill. I followed her blindly, out of love and because I enjoyed the life so very much."

"You loved her?"

"Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I thought I loved her. Marjolaine is an enchanting woman and she did everything she could to ensure I was devoted to her. We were lovers, and I thought that I might have meant something to her. It was only later that I learned that our relationship was nothing more than another aspect of the Game."

Kallian held up a hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but what's 'the Game'?"

"It was what we called the life of a bard. Marjolaine insisted that I treat everything as though it were nothing more than an elaborate game." Leliana rubbed her hands together. "It taught me how to be a bard without allowing me to question the morality of what I was doing. Marjolaine made it into a challenge: she would have me try to disgrace three political figures in a single evening, or else see if I could murder a man in his bed without awakening his wife. It was exciting…and often fun."

She paused after that and shot a quick look over at Kallian to see how the other woman was taking this. Aside from a slight furrow between her eyebrows, Kallian showed no overt sign of being bothered by her confession. Taking a deep breath, Leliana continued. "This all changed when we took an assignment that required us to recover some documents from a nobleman's estate and deliver them to a buyer in Ferelden. It should have been a straightforward task, but things became complicated."

Beside her, the elf shifted on the log. "You got caught?"

"No, we were entirely successful. The complications arose later, when I was looking over the documents we had stolen." Leliana shook her head. "They all bore the Orlesian Royal seal."

"That would be the treason then?"

Leliana gave a faint smile. "Yes, that was the treason. After I discovered what we had stolen, I confronted Marjolaine in the hopes that we could abandon the assignment before we compromised our loyalties. You have to understand; I wanted nothing more than to keep the two of us safe from harm. The act of betraying Orlais was not nearly as distressing as the thought of Marjolaine being hurt."

Feeling suddenly restless, Leliana stood up from her seat and gestured for Kallian to walk with her. She didn't have any real destination in mind, but she found herself leading the elf back towards the secluded glen that bordered the stream. Away from the perceived scrutiny of the main camp, she felt slightly more at ease.

"We argued, but eventually Marjolaine agreed to end our mission at my request…or so she led me to believe." Leliana spoke softly as they walked through the trees. "The next day, she had me and two of our companions sneak back into the noble's estate to replace the documents we had stolen. When we arrived, a full complement of Chevaliers was waiting for us. They captured us, and with the documents in hand, had more than enough evidence to accuse us of treason"

Kallian made a noise of consideration. "You're sure Marjolaine betrayed you? Couldn't they have found out some other way?"

"They could have, but Marjolaine came to visit me in prison. She gloated."

"…Damn"

"It was the first time I ever saw her for what she was. Looking back now, I can't believe I was ever fool enough to trust her."

They came to a halt beside a bend in the narrow stream. Steeling herself, Leliana turned to face the other woman with her hands dangling loosely at her sides. In the moon's cold light, Kallian's face was an unreadable portrait of deep shadows and contrasting outlines. Though she couldn't discern the elf's expression, Leliana took some slight comfort in the fact that Kallian seemed relaxed.

"After that, I was transferred into the custody of one of the Chevaliers to be tortured until I gave a full confession. The Chevalier was zealous in his task, but he was nothing compared to his brother." Leliana stared off at nothing in particular. "That man took his pleasure along with my suffering."

There was a beat, and then Kallian inhaled sharply. "You…were you….?"

"He forced himself on me," Leliana answered the unfinished question with a short nod. "It was all part of a traitor's punishment."

Kallian's mouth opened and closed several times as though she were about to say something before she turned away to look off in the opposite direction. For a very long time, the elf neither moved nor spoke, and Leliana found herself wondering what was going through the other woman's head. Finally, Kallian turned around and tentatively stepped a little closer to Leliana so that they stood only a foot or so from each other. When she spoke, her raspy voice sounded thick. "I-I'm sorry…..are you alright?"

"Time has eased the pain of that wound." Leliana looked back at her. "Thank you though, for your concern."

After a long silence, Kallian gave a heavy swallow and inclined her head stiffly. "How did you get free?"

"I received aid from a woman I did not know. She claimed to hate Marjolaine and she provided the tools I needed to escape my cell. I still have no idea who she was, but I owe her my life nonetheless. After that, I knew I would have to flee the country if I wanted to escape Marjolaine's reach."

"What about the Chantry?"

"There is no more to that than I told you previously. The Chantry was there when I needed someone or something to hold onto. It was there that I found the compassion and safety that allowed me to move on from the life I had led." Leliana let out a long breath. "Sometimes, part of me is thankful for Marjolaine's betrayal and the changes it forced in me. The idea that I might have become anything like her haunts me more than anything else."

Leliana felt uncomfortably vulnerable as she came to the end of her story. She had never told anyone about her life before the Chantry, and part of her wished she had said nothing. Anxiously, she watched as the elf processed what she had told her.

Eventually, Kallian shook herself and looked up at Leliana. "I can see why you wouldn't want to share that with a bunch of strangers."

"It is not something I enjoy talking about." She toyed with a lock of her hair. "Not only is it a painful memory, but I am deeply ashamed of my time as a bard. The way I behaved, the things that I did, I fear I was a horrible human being."

"That can't be true." Kallian blurted out. "I don't think you could ever be horrible. You're a lot nicer than I am and….uh, well I guess that's not saying a lot; but, I think that you're a lot nicer than most people, and you're pretty, and smart, and you know about all this stuff…..and this really sounded much better in my head."

Leliana felt a warm feeling rise up in her chest as Kallian tripped over her words. "It sounded just fine to me."

"You must not have been listening very closely."

Unable to resist a small chuckle, Leliana felt a sudden urge to see if she couldn't get Kallian to calm down a little. Closing the last of the distance that separated them, she raised her hand to cup the side of the elf's face. Leliana heard Kallian's breath catch as she leaned down slightly. "You are terrifyingly cute when you get flustered."

"Err…thanks, I think."

Leliana gently trailed her fingers along the other woman's cheek as she looked down at her. For a long while, they simply stared at one another in the silvery moonlight. Then, when the moment finally felt right, she lowered her head so that their lips met.

At first, she found it a little odd to kiss someone shorter than her, but it became a bit more natural when Kallian brought her arms up to twine around her neck. Wrapping her own arm around the elf's lower back, Leliana drew her close as she deepened the kiss.

Slender fingers raked through her hair as Kallian made a small noise of pleasure and went soft in her arms. Feeling absurdly pleased with herself, Leliana let the kiss continue until she was absolutely forced to pull away. Breathing a little hard, she drew back a little without loosening her hold on Kallian's body.

Slowly, the elf's eyes opened and Kallian gave her a languid smile. "….Wow"

"I take it that wasn't too forward either?"

"No," Kallian gave a breathy laugh. "I've been wanting that for a long time."

Leliana smiled and moved back for another kiss. Gently rubbing her hand along the curve of Kallian's waist, Leliana emptied her mind of all thought as she focused on the wonderfully pleasant sensation of the elf's lips against her own.

They broke apart when raucous laughter sounded from off in the direction of the distant camp. Dropping her arms down to circle Kallian's hips, Leliana sighed softly and shook her head. "I've forgotten about the others. We should head back before they wonder where we've gone off to."

Kallian nuzzled her face against the crook of Leliana's neck. "Do we have to care?"

"Shame on you, a Grey Warden has responsibilities." Leliana let a teasing note creep into her voice. "You cannot just go gallivanting off into the woods with every woman who crosses your path."

"Then why the hell did I join up?"

Leliana laughed. "And here I thought it was the adventure you were after."

Slowly, and with a kind of mutual reluctance, they separated from each other and stood a few feet apart. Feeling abruptly cold without Kallian's body heat against her, Leliana drew her cloak about her shoulders. Offering the elf a small smile, Leliana rearranged herself to look presentable before gesturing back towards camp. "Shall we?"

"I guess we have no choice."

Without any real hurry, they began the walk back to camp. They had only gone a few steps before Leliana felt the elf's hand slide into her own. Looking down with a smile, Leliana interlaced their fingers and gave a soft squeeze as they passed through the dark trees.

This was...a good start.

* * *

I always knew those two would get together. That chapter was way too soft-hearted and happy for this fic. I'll have to give Oghren syphilis or something to make up for it in the next chapter.

So, as I said earlier, this fic is going to become more centered around the two of them as they approach the final battle. I have the entire story laid out by this point, and there's going to be a whole lot that goes on in the ten or so chapters that will conclude this fanfic. There are a number of plot lines that are going to develop soonish.

As always, thank you all so much for reading.


	18. Within a Mile of Home

A/N: Please forgive me for the long wait for this chapter. I had an oppurtunity to spend much of the last week in Canada and it cut into my writing somewhat. Speaking of which, to any Canadians out there: you have a lovely country and you are some of the friendliest people I have ever met.

Chapter18: Within a Mile of Home

The Imperial Highroad- Redcliffe

* * *

...

Kallian yawned and stirred the contents of the pot with her spoon.

It had been a long time since she had cooked something, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that it was coming together rather well. She knew that some people thought that it was practically impossible to ruin porridge, but those people simply had no taste for good porridge. A careless chef might make it too thin or worse yet, so thick that it more closely resembled glue than food. No, the perfect porridge had just the right consistency and was flavored with either honey or a pinch of Rivaini cinnamon.

But never raisins, Maker preserve those diseased individuals who would ruin perfectly good porridge by adding raisins. As far as Kallian was concerned, the only way to help those people was to stamp them out before their foul heresy had a chance to corrupt the next generation.

Smiling at the thought, Kallian rested the spoon against the side of the pot before settling back to watch the sun rise. She felt unusually good today despite the fact that her dreams had forced her awake after only a few short hours of sleep. Having decided to make the best of it, she had relived Alistair of his watch but had never bothered to wake Leliana when it was her shift. Kallian didn't mind so much, it was nice to have a few hours in her own company for a change.

Actually, it was just nice to have a little peace and quiet no matter what form it came in. Considering how hectic the majority of their journey had been, the last several days of uneventful travel had come as a welcome relief.

Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that Morrigan had recently asked her to kill a thousand year-old swamp witch, Kallian might have even gone so far as to say it had been relaxing.

Kallian glanced over at the heavily-patched tent that Morrigan had claimed as her own. In addition to learning several powerful spells from her mother's grimoire, the mage had discovered rather some unpleasant information about herself. As it turned out, Flemeth's mysterious longevity stemmed from the fact that she had possessed the bodies of her various daughters over the centuries. Naturally, this had not sat very well with Morrigan.

Fearing that Flemeth would perform the ritual if she confronted her, Morrigan had turned to Kallian for help killing her mother. Though Kallian was sympathetic to her plight, she had also been reluctant to commit to a fight that she would almost certainly lose. If it hadn't been for the fact that Morrigan had started talking about how she was her only friend, Kallian probably would have turned the witch down. As it was, she had found herself agreeing to help even though every part of her had screamed at her to refuse.

Kallian sighed as she gave the porridge a few more stirs. Much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to get soft-hearted. She wasn't the only one who had noticed, Leliana had taken to teasing her about it whenever they were alone.

A slow smiled spread across her lips as her thoughts drifted towards the bard. Ever since that first night by the river, Kallian had found herself to be in a perpetually good mood. Not only was she feeling more relaxed, but she now found herself smiling for no reason every once and a while. It was getting to the point where Alistair had begun commenting on her "unnerving happiness."

The two of them hadn't come around to telling the others yet, so most of their time together was the result of contrived excuses to get away from camp. Far from being frustrating, they treated these stolen moments like they were part of some elaborate game. Kallian liked the secrecy; it made everything a little more exciting.

Of course, there wasn't much about their new relationship that she didn't find exciting. While their enthusiastic bouts of kissing often left her flushed and weak in the knees, Kallian found that she looked forward to their other activities with almost the same degree of anticipation. Up until this point in her life, the closest thing she had ever had to a relationship had been a smattering of physical encounters with one of the barmaids from the Gnawed Nobel. Actually becoming close to another person was entirely new, and slightly frightening, experience for her.

Frightening or not, her happiest moment in recent memory had been listening to one of Leliana's stories while wrapped in the other woman's embrace. Even thinking about it caused a surge of warmth to blossom up inside of her chest. She found herself wondering if Leliana ever felt like this about her.

A rustle of fabric made her look up just as Alistair pushed aside the flaps of his tent. Cracking his neck with a satisfied groan, he shot her a brief grin before tromping over to join her beside the fire.

"Have you been up all night?"

"I wasn't feeling tired so I thought that Leliana might appreciate a few more hours of sleep."

"Fair enough," Alistair shoved another log onto the fire and stirred the coals around with a branch. Dusting off his hands when he had finished, the human sat down next to her. Even knowing it was Alistair, Kallian still felt her muscles tense when his scent reached her nose.

Kallian glanced at him. "You said we were pretty close to Redcliffe last night."

"That's right; I'd say we'll arrive at the city by midday at the latest."

She gave a small nod in response and turned her attention back to the porridge. It was coming together nicely, but after a few experimental stirs of the spoon, she decided to let it keep cooking for a few minutes. As she worked, she slowly became aware of the sideways looks Alistair was shooting at her. Frowning slightly, she cocked an eyebrow and gestured to the pot.

"Is it so weird that I decided to cook for a change?"

"It's not that," He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just that there's something I've wanted to talk to you about before we get to Redcliffe."

Kallian grimaced, this sounded like trouble. "Fine, go right ahead."

"Ok…where to start? Did we ever talk about my upbringing before I entered the Templars?"

"Yeah, you said you were raised by Arl Eamon. That's why we are going to Redcliffe in the first place isn't it?"

"Pretty much, but I think it's important for you to know a little more." Alistair took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "A lot of people thought that I was Arl Eamon's bastard son. Actually, that was part of the reason I was sent away from Redcliffe. His new wife was the jealous sort and she thought my presence was an intolerable humiliation. The Arl sent me away shortly after the birth of their son."

"Ouch"

Alistair gave a snort. "That was my thought at the time. I remember throwing this huge tantrum when he told me that he was sending me to the Chantry. It ended with me breaking my mother's amulet against the wall and telling him that I hated him. It was a damned stupid thing to do and I've always felt miserable about it."

There was a note of longstanding pain in his voice that made Kallian take notice. While she found this whole story to be slightly illuminating, she did not understand why Alistair felt it was of the utmost importance to share with her. "So, is there a chance that Arl Eamon is your father?"

"No, I know exactly who my father is. Actually, that's kind of the point of all of this. See, I'm the illegitimate son of King Maric."

Kallian blinked stupidly. "Like…_the _King Maric?"

"I didn't know there was more than one." Alistair spoke drily as his lips curved up. "But yes, I'm talking about _the _King Maric. From what Eamon told me, I was given into his custody shortly after my birth to avoid any political upheaval. Even I didn't believe it until he showed me the Chantry documents proving my lineage."

Wondering if this was a particularly bad joke, Kallian stared over at Alistair in bafflement. "Does that mean that you're the new king of Ferelden? Now that Cailan is dead and all?"

"Maker, I hope not! I doubt I have any claim to the throne and that suits me just fine."

She settled back onto her seat and chewed at her lip in silent thought. Much as she'd like to think Alistair was kidding, the man seemed uncharacteristically sincere. "Wait, so why didn't you ever say anything before? Why wait till now to drop this on me?"

"I don't know, I figured it would come up one way or the other once we reached Redcliffe." He gave an emphatic shrug. "Plus, I don't really like people knowing about it. I guess I'm just afraid that everyone would start treating me different once they found out. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, it makes sense." She nodded slowly and stared down at her hands. "Don't worry; I'm not going to treat you any different."

Alistair sighed in relief. "Well, that's good to know. I don't want you to think that I was intentionally deceiving you or anything. If I had thought that it was important to our task, I would have said something about it earlier."

"It's fine Alistair, we're all entitled to our secrets."

There was plenty of meaning behind her words; and the look Alistair shot her told Kallian that he had picked up on it. She had meant it as a mild recrimination, but the thoughtful look the drifted over his face suggested that Alistair had taken it in a different way.

There was a moment of silence as Alistair chewed on the edge of his thumbnail. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle and soothing like he was talking to a spooked horse. "We never did get a chance to talk about that night."

"Alistair…."

He held up a hand to stop her. "And that's completely alright. Just know that I'm willing to listen if you ever feel like you need to talk with someone. That isn't something anyone should have to keep inside themselves forever."

His words fell on her like a coarse blanket on bare skin. Fidgeting uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, Kallian turned away so that she didn't have to look at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

Alistair made a soft noise of acknowledgement and said nothing more.

Half-expecting him to press the issue, Kallian was surprised when several minutes passed without a single word spoken between them. It took her a while, but she gradually relaxed enough to lift the lid of the pot and give the porridge an experimental stir. Truth be told, it was a little thick, but she imagined it would taste alright with the right spices added. Pulling the pot off the fire, she set it on the packed dirt that surrounded their fire pit.

"What did you make?" Alistair's tone held no trace of their previous discussion.

"Porridge"

"Hey, nice and uncomplicated"

Kallian gave a despairing shake of the head as she brought out her bowl and ladled a generous portion into it. Handing the spoon over to Alistair, Kallian added a pinch of cinnamon from the small bag that Leliana had bought back at Orzammar. It was a little thicker than she would have liked, but it still tasted damned good in her opinion.

She was just licking her bowl clean when their companions began to rise. Sten exited his tent first and only gave the two of them the barest of nods before he strode off into the wilderness. If he kept to his usual schedule, it would be over an hour before the Qunari warrior returned to camp. Kallian had followed him one morning out of curiosity only to find that he engaged in some kind of ritual prayer once he was alone. Though she was certain he had not seen her, she had left quickly for fear that her intrusion would bother him.

Not too long after, the others stumbled out of their tents with the type of cohesiveness that came from longstanding routine. Aside from her, the rest of the group seemed to have synchronized their biological clocks to the odd hours that the trail required.

Kallian smirked as she watched Oghren and Zevran slouch off in the direction of the nearby brook with matching looks of misery. Their increasingly frequent drinking contests had slowly acquired a quality that was more combative than friendly. While Zevran could certainly hold his own, Kallian knew the smart money was on Oghren and his crippling alcoholism.

A flash of red hair drew her attention to where Leliana was currently stretching in the morning's cold light. Watching appreciatively as the bard's lithe form arched into a very appealing shape, Kallian jealously noted that the Leliana didn't show any sign of having just woken up. No matter how or where she slept, Kallian always looked and felt like death whenever she got out of bed. What she wouldn't give to know how Leliana managed to look perfect at all hours of the day.

Finished with her stretch, Leliana flashed Kallian a mischievous look when she noticed that she had an audience. Slightly embraced at having been caught ogling, Kallian felt a flush spill across her cheeks as the other woman began to make her way over. She glanced up at Leliana when she drew close.

"Hey"

"Good morning," Leliana raised a delicate brow. "Why is it that no one came to wake me for my turn at watch?"

Kallian smiled sheepishly at the mildly accusing note in her voice. "I dunno, I guess someone just lost track of time or something. Still, it's not the end of the world right?"

"You shouldn't have done that, you must be exhausted." Leliana sat down next to her and bumped Kallian's leg with her own. "At the very least, you could have woken me up so that we could have stood watch together."

"I thought you might like a few extra hours. Plus, I don't feel tired at all."

"That's good to hear, I was hoping you could tell me some more about Denerim tonight. You piqued my interest with that story about the guardsmen and I confess that I'm eager for more." Leliana spoke softly so that her voice wouldn't carry to Alistair's ears.

Kallian worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she considered Leliana's words. In exchange for Leliana's stories about her travels, Kallian had reluctantly started sharing snippets about her life in the Alienage. She didn't see how her meager offerings could hold any interest to an Orlesian bard, but Leliana swore that she found them interesting.

So, with no small amount of bafflement, Kallian had begun to tell her everything she wanted to know. At first it had just been a few choice anecdotes and memories, but they were slowly moving into more personal territory. Leliana was a spectacular audience and Kallian had already told her much about her family and about the shady work she had done for a local thief. As it was, Leliana probably now knew more about her than most everyone else.

At one point, she had even tried to talk to Leliana about Vaughn.

The words hadn't come. It should have been easier knowing that Leliana had gone through something similar, but she had frozen up every time she had tried to say something. Even when Leliana had asked her if anything was wrong, Kallian hadn't been able to force the words out. Instead, she had just sat quietly and hated herself for her cowardice.

"Kallian?"

Leliana's voice jerked her out of her thoughts. Blinking, Kallian looked at her and gave a shaky smile. "Sorry, what?"

"You never answered me." Leliana's brilliant blue eyes stared at her curiously. "Where did you just go right now?"

"Nowhere, I was just thinking about something." Kallian swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat and tried to banish the ghosts from her mind. Offering Leliana another smile that might have been a grimace, Kallian shrugged. "Yeah, I'd be willing to tell you more. Are you sure you want to hear that boring stuff? I've got a few elvish legends that might be a little more exciting.

"Ah, but I like hearing about your life before the Wardens. While it may not be as grand or mystical as an elvish legend, a true story about a person's life can often prove far more alluring. Honesty is a spice that too many storytellers disdain."

Kallian ran a hand through her freshly-cut hair. Not only had Leliana trimmed it short, but she had also made it look far more fashionable than Kallian had ever managed. "Well, in that case, I'd better tell you about all the things I lied about."

Leliana gave a delighted laugh. "You are terrible."

Feeling significantly better, Kallian ladled some of the porridge into a bowl and passed it to Leliana. "Here, try this and let me know what you think."

"Porridge? Oh how lovely, I thought it was going to be cold bread and salted fish again."

Kallian watched as Leliana added some of the cinnamon to the porridge and took a bite. Smiling at her sound of obvious pleasure, Kallian toyed with her spoon as she waited for the official verdict. Leliana made a big show of savoring her mouthful before she swallowed and smiled over at Kallian. "Absolutely wonderful, the only way it could be better is if we had some raisins to go along with it."

The elf felt her eyes narrow. This might be a problem.

…

xxXxx

Within a minute of passing through Redcliffe's gates, Kallian realized the city was fucked.

The first indication of trouble came when they stumbled upon the remnants of the forward outpost that stood a mile outside of the city limits. Though it was not been immediately apparent what had happened, it had looked as though a hurricane had ripped through the fortified position. Gazing mutely at the tangled mass of broken beams and twisted metal, Alistair had grimly given them the order to draw weapons before they began moving again.

From there, it had simply gotten worse as they progressed further into Redcliffe. Most of the outlining houses were in ruins, and several were blackened and charred by fire. Even more foreboding, the thick snow was liberally splashed with dark stains that Kallian recognized as frozen blood. There were no corpses that she could see, but somehow that made it all worse.

"Did Darkspawn do this?" Her voice sounded unnaturally loud as they moved among the silent buildings.

"I don't think so," Alistair face had a sickly cast to it. "If it were Darkspawn, we would be able to sense their taint even if they have already moved on from the area. Besides, as bad as this is, it would look a lot worse if a Darkspawn raiding party came through here.

Kallian frowned at his words and tightened her grip on her sword while shooting nervous glances at their surroundings. A sudden movement caused her to snap her gaze up towards a second-story window. Just before the shutters slammed close, she caught a glimpse of a white face peering down on them. She opened her mouth to say something, but Morrigan beat her to it.

"There are still people here. Perhaps we can end this speculation and just ask them what has occurred."

Alistair nodded. "I agree, but how do we go about asking? It doesn't seem like anyone is too eager to come out and greet us."

"We should check at the Chantry." Kallian kept her eyes open and her ears pricked as they walked. "No matter what has happened, I'd imagine that the survivors would go to the Chantry to pray. That's what the faithful do in a tragedy right?

"It's as good a plan as any."

A few minutes later, their path took a sloped downwards and they got a good look at the city of Redcliffe. While Kallian could still see the scars of battle, this part of the city looked significantly better than the outskirts had. Finding this reassuring, she took in the city as they walked.

Set against the backdrop of Lake Calenhad, Redcliffe cut an impressive picture in spite of its present circumstances. While some of its buildings were constructed along the severe cliff-side, the overwhelming majority were positioned along the coast. If Kallian were to guess, she would probably say that this layout was responsible for the relatively untouched state of the inner city. Any invading force would have to traverse the narrow path down the cliff if they wanted to get at the city's center. Aside from the loss of the high ground advantage, it was an attractive defensive position.

The Chantry was not at all hard to find. Easily the largest structure in the city square, the Chantry looked to have once been a meeting hall that had been repurposed to serve the Maker. As they drew close, the impressive double doors opened to disgorge several armored figures into the bright sunlight. Even from across the courtyard, Kallian found it easy to identify the distinctive plate armor of the Templar order as the soldiers advanced on them.

Their welcoming committee halted some twenty yards away from where they stood. They had the look of men pushed to their limits and Kallian was able to catch the sour scent of their fear even from a distance. Just when she was beginning to wonder if they were about to be attack, a plainly dressed human exited out of the Chantry to stand behind the Templars.

Alistair stepped forward eagerly. "Teagan? Is that you?"

For a moment, the man just stared at Alistair without any shred of recognition. Then, the man's face brightened. "By the Maker, is that Alistair? We all thought that you had died at Ostagar!"

The man Alistair had referred to as Teagan made as if to move forward but he was stopped by one of the Templars. Gesturing over to where they stood, the Templar spoke up in a voice that was used to giving orders. "Hold just a moment my lord; they must be tested before we can allow them to come any closer."

"Yes…yes, of course." Teagan stood back and let the Templars move forward. "Forgive me Alistair; the Templars must cleanse the area to ensure that you and your companions are not compromised. It will not take very long at all."

Kallian shifted uneasily as a faint blue aura rose up around the Templars that were closest to them. With a suddenness that made her flinch, a wave of blue fire shot out to engulf the entire square in a torrent of brilliant light. Surprising though it was, the Templar's fire did not cause the slightest bit of discomfort as it passed over Kallian's skin. Judging from the rough gagging noises that came from behind her, she guessed the Wynne and Morrigan were not similarly unaffected.

Once it had swept over the entire group, the Templars dispelled the odd fire and visibly relaxed. Smiling widely, Teagan pushed his way forward and open his arms to embrace Alistair. "Ah, but it is good to see you again my friend."

"Likewise, I only wish the circumstances were different. What's happened here Teagan?"

Teagan's face twisted in a mask of pain. "A great deal and none of it has been good. Come, let us go inside the Chantry, there are people there with whom you should speak."

He motioned for them to follow before he turned to make his way back towards the Chantry. Allowing Alistair to lead, Kallian exchanged a quick glance with Morrigan as she sheathed her sword reluctantly. She didn't like the way the Templars were looking at the witch and she stuck close to Morrigan just in case they decided to press the issue. It didn't turn out to be necessary, the men allowed them to pass with nothing more than a handful of muttered comments.

Once inside the Chantry, Kallian found herself assailed by the sound and smell of too many people packed into an enclosed space. Wrinkling her nose against the stench, Kallian tried to ignore countless frightened eyes turned in their direction.

"Hrmph…doesn't look like this lot is up to do much else besides piss themselves. Yer' sure this is the place we want?" Oghren inspected a group of human children and then snorted when they all drew back like spooked sheep.

Wynne made a disapproving sound. "These are women and children Oghren, not warriors. More importantly, they have obviously been through a difficult time. You cannot blame them for being afraid."

"Maybe, but then ya' got to ask yerself, where are all the warriors?"

Kallian quietly found herself agreeing as she looked around the crowded building. Whatever Teagan told them, it wouldn't change the fact that Redcliffe looked like it was totally fucked. Right now, that was the last thing in the world that Fereldan needed.

To her relief, Teagan led them to a small enclave at the far back of the Chantry that was mercifully devoid of people. At their approach, a blond woman bolted up from a nearby stool and rushed over to them. Kallian noticed that Alistair stiffened when he caught sight of the new arrival.

"Lady Isolde" Alistair's tone was carefully neutral.

"A-Alistair? Teagan, what is this?" Her voice was heavily colored by an Orlesian accent. Though she had to be approaching forty, she possessed a kind of regal beauty that was only enhanced by her maturity. Considering her rich clothes and fine jewelry, Kallian imagined that this was someone important.

Teagan made a pacifying gesture. "Alistair is here on behalf of the Grey Wardens. My hope is that he will be able to help us reach Eamon."

"What could _he _do that our knights cannot?"

"The Wardens have resources—"

"Resources? The Wardens were killed off months ago!"

Alistair held up his hand and whistled sharply to get their attention. "Enough, could the two of you please explain what is going on? What's happened to Redcliffe and why do we need to 'reach' the Arl."

Kallian arched a brow as she gazed over at her fellow Warden. If she had gotten softer in the last few weeks, then Alistair had definitely gotten tougher at some point. It was a little difficult to reconcile the commanding figure in front of her with the uncertain man she had left Ostagar with.

After a moment, Teagan cleared his throat and looked at them. "The Arl has been poisoned."

The color drained out of Alistair's face. "Poisoned? Is he….?"

"I do not know. He was still alive when last I saw him, but it has been days since any of us have been able to enter the keep. Until we are able to reclaim the castle, I fear that there will be no way of knowing his fate."

Kallian frowned. "Why can't you enter the keep?"

It was a perfectly logical question, but both Teagan and the noblewoman looked surprised that she had spoken. Doing her best not to fidget under their regard, Kallian tilted her chin up and tried not to notice the way Teagan's eyes darted to her ears. Alistair cleared his throat and gestured to her.

"This is Kallian; she is the only other Grey Warden currently operating in Ferelden. Kallian, this is Bann Teagan and Lady Isolde. Teagan is the brother to Arl Eamon and Lady Isolde is the Arl's wife."

Teagan gave a formal bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. To answer your question, the reason we cannot enter the keep is because it is now home to a dark presence. Several days prior, the gates to the castle opened and a unholy host fell upon the city. We were taken by surprise and many of the city guard fell that first night. Even worse, the corpses of the fallen rose up to attack the survivors. We managed to drive them back, but losses were very heavy."

Wynne stirred behind her. "The dead rising? That is the hallmark of a demonic incursion."

"NO!" Isolde practically shouted the word as she shot Wynne a venomous glare. "He is not a demon! Connor is just a victim of the horrid man's manipulations!"

Teagan sighed and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Peace Isolde, they are trying to help and I'm certain no offense was meant. I think it might be best if you explained about Connor's….condition. They will need to know if they are to provide any aid."

In the silence that followed, it looked as though Isolde might argue. Finally, she gave Teagan a beseeching look before hanging her in what looked to be grief. "Connor is my son. A year ago, we discovered that he was a mage. Eamon and I feared the Templars would take him from us; so we arranged for an apostate to tutor him. You have to understand, all we wanted was to have him learn how to control his power. Just so he wouldn't be a danger to others."

Kallian had a feeling where this was going. "He has become an abomination?"

"No! This is the work of the blood mage! The same one who poisoned my husband! He's done something to my son to make him do this."

"A blood mage?" Alistair calm tone gave way to a sharp undercurrent of anger. "You let a blood mage teach Connor magic? How on earth could you and Eamon have been so foolish?"

Teagan raised a hand. "They did not know he was a blood mage when they hired him. Actually, aside from the three of us, no one was aware that Jowan was a mage of any sort. Most of them simply thought he was a tutor we had brought in to instruct Connor on philosophy and arithmetic."

"And this…Jowan, he poisoned the Arl as well?"

"Yes, the man admits it. If you require further assurance you can ask him yourself." Teagan lifted a hand to draw their attention to a tall cage that was set against the far wall. "The Templars have him safely confined so that his magic poses no threat. We've questioned him, but all he says is that Loghain was the one who hired him."

"That makes sense; Eamon is a powerful opponent of Loghain's regency." Alistair's eyebrows drew together in thought.

"Perhaps, but can you actually believe that the Hero of River Dane would hire an assassin?"

Zevran gave a cheerful shrug. "It's more likely than you'd think."

Kallian elbowed him in the ribs and then rolled her eyes at the wholly unapologetic grin he gave her. Considering that the Arl had been laid out by an assassin, it didn't seem like such a good idea for Zevran to flaunt his occupation. It could only strain tensions with a group of people who were already on-edge. Turning to Alistair, she jerked her head in the direction of the cage.

"Maybe we should go talk to the blood mage. If he is the one who started all of this, maybe he can tell us how we're supposed to end it."

"Not a bad idea."

Teagan sighed. "You're welcome to try. I'll warn you though; he mostly just tries to convince us that he wants to help Connor. He claims that Connor is merely possessed and can be saved if we allow him to work some kind of blood magic. I want to help the lad, but condoning blood magic doesn't sit all that well with me."

"If he truly is possessed, then it might be possible to save the boy's life." Wynne gave Isolde a comforting smile as she spoke. "I won't know for certain until I see the child myself, but there is still hope. We should move quickly regardless, a demonic incursion will only grow worse with time.

Alistair nodded. "Right, how many soldiers do you have under your command Teagan?"

"Counting the Templars? A little over two score all told."

"That few?" Alistair looked shocked. "How many died as a result of the attacks?"

"Many, but the vast majority of our knights are not at Redcliffe. They search for the Urn of the Sacred Ashes on Lady Isolde's orders."

For a moment, it appeared as though Alistair was unable to speak. "You…you sent all of Redcliffe's knights out on a quest for storybook treasure? We have a bloody Blight on our hands and you're looking for something that even the Chantry doesn't believe in?"

Isolde gave a strangled exclamation. "How else are we to help Eamon? The healers say there is no known cure for his affliction. The Ashes could heal him!"

"Now's not the time for this, we will make do with what we have." Alistair drew in a deep breath. "Teagan, have all available warriors assemble on the bridge. If you have any archers, make sure they are there as well. If these attacks are coming at nightfall, then we must be ready to advance on the castle within the hour. There is not much sunlight left."

"The portcullis is lowered Alistair, we will be laying siege to our own castle."

"We have mages; we'll get through it one way or another."

Teagan frowned over at Morrigan and Wynne before nodding. "My men and I will meet you at the bridge as quickly as we are able."

"No, you won't be coming." Alistair set his mouth into a hard line. "The people here cannot be left without a leader Teagan. If the worst happens, someone will need to organize the evacuation of the town. You must stay behind."

"They will have the Reverend Mother to watch over them. I can be of more use to you at the castle."

"You will stay here."

"Do not think to tell me what I can and cannot do Alistair." A quick burst of anger flamed up in Teagan's eyes as he glared at the other man. "I am Bann of the city and it is my duty to protect it."

Alistair met the Bann's stare for a few beats before shaking his head in resignation. "As you say, but you must remain behind the knights."

"Agreed"

They nodded at one another and Teagan spun around to begin rattling off orders to a soldier who had magically appeared at his side. Watching the man leave with a dark expression, Alistair sighed and glanced at Kallian. "I'm going to speak with the Templars and see if that blood mage can be brought along. Even the chance of him being able to help us is worth the risk."

"If you say so, anything you need me to do?"

He looked a little surprised by her offer. "Actually, there is something you could do. Didn't you say that you were a cat burglar before you joined up?"

"Erm…yeah, that's right."

"Excellent, get your hands on some rope. A lot of it."

* * *

Again, sorry for the late update. I like to aim for a chapter a week, but occasionally life gets in the way. On the plus side, I have the rest of this story fully laid out and I can't wait to get farther into it. Especially since I have a really fun idea for a Dragon Age 2 fic that I'm forcing myself to hold back on until I finish this one.

Thanks so much for reading and please consider leaving a review if you see anything I could work on in my writing!


	19. Sense, Sensibilty

A/N: This chapter was a whole lot of fun to write. I would like to thank Kaidian for being an extremely awesome person and beta-ing this chapter for me. I think it is infinitely better thanks to the amazing input I received.

Chapter 19: Sense, Sensibility

Castle Redcliffe

* * *

xxXxx

It began to snow just before they reached the outer gates.

Perhaps it was just the result of knowing what lay ahead of them, but the castle seemed unaccountably frightening to Leliana. Part of this was due to the grim atmosphere that had settled over them all, and part of it was the simple appearance of the building itself.

Crafted out of ancient stone that was only slightly darker than the murky skyline, Redcliffe's keep loomed ahead like a ponderous god awaiting its next sacrifice. From the wide expanse of its vacant face, dark windows glared down at them as if in challenge. Thick panes of ice shrouded the rooftops and spilled over the eaves in long curtains that culminated in countless glittering points. Most foreboding of all, there was no sign of either movement or torchlight as far as she could see. It looked more like a long abandoned tomb than any castle she had ever seen.

Under the weight of the castle's regard, no one seemed inclined to do much talking. Indeed, aside the rhythmic pounding of armored feet against the bridge's cobblestones, the only sound that she could hear was the faint whisper of the wind as it swept around them

The curious solemnity of their procession extended to her companions as well. Even Zevran and Oghren seemed subdued and devoid of the usual good humor that comes from being selfishly amoral. Though it was harder to tell with Morrigan, the witch seemed even more snappish than usual today. Only Sten and the dog seemed to be unaffected by the current atmosphere of melancholy.

Leliana wasn't sure what made this task different from their other trials, but it seemed somehow more desperate. No one joked or made any comments to dispel some of the tension. She wondered if they felt as she did: that today would bring nothing but tragedy.

Beside her, Wynne stumbled as her foot slipped on the slick stone of the bridge. Automatically reaching out with both hands to steady the older woman, Leliana gave her a small smile before shifting her gaze to where Kallian and Alistair led at the front. They cut an unusual picture; Alistair dwarfed Kallian in his heavy plate, and the elf's loping stride was entirely at odds with his disciplined march. The two of them had apparently come up with a plan of action and Leliana found that to be reassuring. Against incredible odds, the two Wardens had proven more capable than anyone would have expected.

One of the soldiers coughed loudly and then guiltily looked about as though he had broken some unspoken taboo. Though no one said anything, the solider nonetheless turned and gave Bann Teagan a quick nod as if in apology.

Leliana watched as the Bann smiled at the man encouragingly from his position near the back of the group. The one stipulation Alistair had insisted upon was that Teagan had to keep out of harm's way as much as was possible. Though Teagan could have likely forced the issues either way, he had agreed with relatively little fuss.

Next to the Bann, Lady Isolde trudged forward without ever taking her eyes off of the keep. Though both Alistair and Teagan had done their best to dissuade her from coming along, the woman had remained resolute in her decision. As she was the Arl's wife, there was little anyone could do to stop her.

At the very back of the force, the blood mage Jowan walked bound and gagged with a Templar on either side. With his sad eyes and lank hair, he was not an impressive specimen. Though she had only heard him speak briefly, Leliana had found herself pitying him more than she would care to admit. As horrible as his crimes may be, she had the sense that Jowan was little more than an unwilling pawn in a game that was much bigger than him. It was a predicament that Leliana could certainly understand.

A few short minutes later, they all came to a halt in front of the castle's portcullis. Made of dark metal and latticed like a pie crust, the gate was all that stood between them and the entrance to the castle. Leliana moved a little closer to get a better look. The metal bars were as thick around as her arm, and the entire thing seemed as solid and immutable as the stone that surrounded it.

"Well, we made it." Alistair's voice broke the longstanding silence with an abruptness that made her jump.

A small commotion arose behind her as Bann Teagan moved up through the men to stand at Alistair's side. "Yes, now the only question is how we proceed from here. I've been thinking about your plan Alistair and I have to say that I am not hopeful. These bars are warded against magic; they will not fall easily. Even if your mages are able to breach them, I fear that they will be exhausted and incapable of helping Connor even if we gain access. It may be time to consider other contingencies."

"That occurred to me as well. Luckily, we happen to have more than magic at our disposal." Alistair turned to Kallian and jerked his head in the direction of the portcullis. "So, what do you think? Are you going to be able to do it or should we try our luck with spells?"

Kallian eyed the gate for a moment before she let out a short scoff. "You kidding? This won't even be hard."

"Fantastic"

Intrigued, Leliana watched as the elf shed her gloves and began to undo the buckles of her leather jacket. Once she had stripped off the heavy garment to reveal a simple cloth shirt, Kallian gestured to a soldier that wore a sergeant's insignia. "I'm going to need that rope now."

The man shrugged off his pack and retrieved a thick coil of rope from inside of it. "It hasn't even been used yet, just like you asked."

"That'll be perfect." Kallian took the rope from the sergeant and looped the coil over her head so that it crossed her chest like a bandolier. "Now then, let's do this as quickly as we can. It's pretty damn cold out here without a jacket."

Alistair nodded before turning back to face the entire group. "It'll be a two man job to raise the gate. Once Kallian lowers the rope, someone is going to have to climb up after her."

A flicker of excitement awoke in Leliana's chest as she realized what they had planned. It would be incredibly difficult to scale a curtain wall such as this, and the professional part of her was already considering the possible solutions. Shrugging as she tried to imagine how this would work, Leliana raised a hand. "I would be happy to volunteer."

Kallian grinned at her. "Alright, give me a minute to get up there and then I'll drop the line down for you."

"You gotta be shitting me," Oghren peered up at the castle's entrance before letting out an amused snort. "There's no sodding way anyone can climb a wall like that without a ladder or something. I'd bet my beard on it."

"Bet something a little more substantial and we'll talk." Kallian cocked a hip and crossed her arms as she eyed the dwarf.

"Heh, I'll take yer money Sweetness. A sovereign says ya' don't make it to the top in a minute."

The elf bared her teeth in a predatory grin. "Now that's not very exciting. How about this: I'll bet five sovereigns that I make it in less than three quarters of a minute."

With no small amount of amusement, Leliana watched as Oghren mentally weighed his options. Five sovereigns was no small amount of coin, but the dwarf eventually gave a shrug that could almost be considered casual. "I just hope ya' don't hold it against me when ya' lose."

"Then it's a bet, let Zevran keep the time."

Alistair favored them both with a disapproving look and motioned towards the gate. "Excellent, now that all the important business is out of the way, do you think we could move on to saving an entire town?"

Appearing completely unruffled by his sarcasm, Kallian began dusting her palms with a white powder that she had drawn from a pouch at her side. Briefly wondering if Kallian carried chalk with her at all times, Leliana stepped closer and tried her best to peer through the gaps in the portcullis. The courtyard beyond _seemed _to be empty of anything hostile, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible lay just out of sight.

Kallian cracked her neck loudly and stepped up to the gate. Casting a look over her shoulder, the elf arched a brow at Oghren. "What do you say to starting the clock once I have both hands and both feet on the metal part?"

"I wasn't born yesterday Sweetness; I know you'd climb as far as ya' could with just one hand. Yer time starts once you touch the gate with either hand—" Oghren paused a moment before leaning over towards Zevran. "You elves can't climb with just yer feet right?"

Zevran smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think you would be surprised what a talented individual can do with just his feet."

"…And this conversation is now bordering on horrific." Alistair ran a hand down his face with a longsuffering sigh. "In case you've all forgotten, it's the middle of winter so we don't have much daylight left. Let's not forget why we came here."

He had barely finished speaking when Kallian shot up the gate like a bird taking flight. In the space of a single breath, the elf was already halfway up the metal bars and approaching the truly difficult portion of her climb.

As the defensive gate was recessed into the passage way, there was a two-foot gap between the lip of the stone arch and the portcullis itself. The transition should have been practically impossible, but Kallian showed no sign of slowing down as she reached the top of the grating. However, what the elf did next simply should not have worked.

A startled gasp was torn from Leliana's throat when Kallian suddenly jackknifed her body away from the wall and into open space. For one frightening moment, it seemed like she would plummet down to hard stone below. To Leliana's intense relief, Kallian miraculously managed to grab hold of the stone archway with an outstretched hand. After a few moments of precarious dangling by one arm, Kallian threw her other hand up to clutch at the stone. From there, Leliana could only watch in baffled amazement as the elf laboriously pulled herself up until her feet could find purchase.

With that out of the way, Kallian began to climb in earnest. Somehow finding sufficient handholds in the seams of the stone, Kallian tore through the last ten yards with a careless agility that made the entire thing look easy. Almost before Leliana realized it, the elf had finished her task and vaulted over the battlements in a blur of leather and cloth.

"I count thirty-seven seconds." Zevran patted Oghren on the shoulder in a parody of comfort. "Ah well, you can't expect to win every bet. Just think how boring gambling would be if that were the case."

The dwarf glared up at where Kallian had disappeared. "Hrrgh…bugger me with a claw hammer. Five sodding sovereigns."

Leliana felt her lips curl upwards as the dwarf gave another colorful curse before turning around to sulk. In his defense, she would never have thought that anyone could have made it up that wall in under a minute. Even at her peak, Leliana would never have been able to accomplish what Kallian had just done.

The elf's voice rang out from far overhead. "Rope!"

Casting a look up at the battlements, Leliana hastily stepped backwards when the heavy coil of rope came sailing over the edge. Unraveling as it fell, the rope slammed into the cobblestones to pool at her feet. Giving it a few tugs to make certain it was securely fastened to something; Leliana took the rope in both hands and began to climb.

Even with the rope's help, getting up a sheer wall was not an easy feat. Keeping her feet planted against the wall for support, Leliana tried to ignore the burning in her arms and shoulders as she went. She reached the top of the wall in a reasonable amount of time and gratefully accepted Kallian's help in getting over the high battlements. Once she had her feet on a level surface once again, Leliana shook her arms to loosen her muscles and smiled at the elf.

"Oghren is very put out with you at the moment."

A gleeful smile spread across the Kallian's face. "Is that right? Well, maybe next time he'll think twice before betting against me."

"I think we all will."

Looking pleased with the compliment, Kallian began moving towards the narrow staircase that led down to the courtyard below. Leliana fell in behind her and studied their surroundings as she went. Aside from the lack of any signs of life, the interior of the keep seemed to be in perfect condition. Most of the courtyard was heavily blanketed in snow, but a wide path between the gate and the doors to the keep had been cleared by some mysterious means.

"Who did that I wonder?" Kallian blew into her bare hands and looked back at her.

"More than likely, it was whatever is attacking Redcliffe." Leliana felt a pang of sympathy as she noticed the elf was shivering without her jacket. "Would you like to borrow my gloves? I imagine that climb was hard on your hands."

"Nah, I can wait till we meet up with the others. Thanks for the offer though."

Luckily, they didn't have to cross over much of the thick snow as the gate was close to the bottom of the staircase. The mechanism for raising the gate was as simple as it was effective. Set into either side of the passageway, twin cranks jutted out from the surrounding stone. Leliana made for the one on the left-most side of the archway and Kallian moved towards the other. Freeing the bar the kept the lever from turning on its own, Leliana took hold of it with both hands.

Kallian glanced over at her. "Alright, on three: …one…two…three!"

Working more or less in synch, the two of them began to turn their respective levers. Thanks to whatever piece of mechanical ingenuity was behind the construction of the gate, the portcullis began to slowly rise with a series of loud, metallic clanks. It didn't take much effort to move the lever; the only challenge came from trying to match Kallian's pace as closely as possible.

They had only raised it a few feet when the first moan sounded from behind them.

Leliana nearly lost her grip on the lever as the low and mournful sound swelled about them like some plaintive funeral dirge. Casting a quick look over her shoulder, Leliana felt a cold rush of paralyzing fear as she saw what approached them.

She had heard many stories about the undead in her life, but none of them had prepared her for the actual thing. Their skin was dry and as brown as stained leather left out in the sun to dry. Emaciated to the point of being skeletal, the corpses moved with a kind of convulsive stiffness that no natural creature possessed. Most terrible of all, each of the moaning figures had great dark pits where their eyes should have been. From the depths of those empty sockets, small pinpricks of red light gleamed like dying coals.

Mouth suddenly dry, Leliana swallowed thickly and tried to understand where they had come from. Even as the thought passed through her mind, she saw a snow drift tremble and shift before a bony hand shot out of the concealing powder. A moment later, the rest of the creature burst upwards from where it had been hiding.

"Leliana! Move your ass!"

Kallian's yell jerked her out of her stunned stupor and she turned back to the lever in a panicked flurry. Trying to ignore the cacophony of wailing moans behind her, Leliana chanted the Maker's Prayer under her breath as she furiously worked at the gate's mechanism.

The moment the gate was raised high enough to duck under, the soldiers poured into the courtyard with weapons drawn. Trusting that the men would cover her back, Leliana keep turning the crank until she felt it catch at the highest point. Without pausing in the slightest, Leliana slammed the locking bar back into place and whirled about to join the battle.

While the monsters outnumbered them by a considerable amount, the men of Redcliffe benefited from their discipline and superior armament. Standing in three tight ranks, they brought their shields together to form a solid wall of grey metal. While each individual warrior may not have experienced the same degree of training as a Templar or a knight, their practiced formation made them into something that was collectively stronger than the sum of its parts.

Having left her bow with Alistair prior to her climb, Leliana drew her thin daggers and moved to where she thought she could do the most good. Allowing the solider to take the brunt of the initial attack, she struck out at any of the creatures whose backs were turned. In the chaotic frenzy of battle, her earlier fear of the undead faded only to be replaced with a fierce type of joy. Easily avoiding the clumsy lunge of one of their foes, Leliana tripped the mindless corpse and stomped down viciously on the back of its head to ensure that it would not rise again.

A sharp whistle made her look up in time to see Kallian's dog hurtle past with the velocity of a loosed arrow. Howling in challenge, the animal ploughed headlong into a group of the undead and sent the moaning figures flying from the force of its charge. Leaping atop the nearest creatures, the dog lowered its head and tore its arm off as though it were little more than a cloth toy.

Silently marveling at the unrivaled ferocity of the Mabari, Leliana returned her attention to the fight at hand. One of the nearby soldiers had been brought down by several of the undead corpses and the man was letting out agonized screams as they tore at his flesh. Too well-disciplined to break ranks, his fellow soldiers moved to fill the opening he had left before thrusting spears into the monsters that assailed the dying man.

All at once, a concussive wave of heat and orange light exploded out from the center of the courtyard and forced her to shield her face with one hand. Lowering it cautiously, Leliana blinked in surprise when she saw the steaming crater that Morrigan's spell had torn in the middle of the fighting. Wincing at the bits of burning monster that rained down around her, Leliana found herself wishing that Morrigan would find a more subtle fashion of making her presence known.

Even so, the fireball more or less ended the fighting. The few straggling undead that hadn't been caught up in the blast were quickly cut down by the remaining knights. Relaxing slightly, Leliana took a deep breath and returned her weapons to their sheaths.

"Are you all right?" Alistair walked up to her while wiping some unmentionable fluid off of his sword. "It was a near thing for a minute there. I admit, I thought they were going to get to you before the gate was high enough for us to go under."

"My heart is still racing, but I'm fine otherwise." She smiled at him and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"It was something of a shock wasn't it? There's just nothing like fighting a few unholy abominations to get your blood moving." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Actually, I may have let out a very manly roar of surprise when I first saw them popping up behind you."

"Try being on the other side of the gate next time, it's even more invigorating."

Alistair shook his head with a mischievous grin. "No, I'm really more of the 'lead from behind' type of guy. It's much safer and you still get to take all the credit once the fighting is over."

"Ah yes, I suppose cowardice is the better part of valor."

He gave a short laugh before nodding at her and moving over towards where Bann Teagan and the Lady Isolde where standing by the gate. While the Bann was surveying the carnage with a grim mask of composure, it appeared as though the noblewoman was close to fainting. \Briefly wondering if she should go over to offer her assistance, Leliana abandoned the thought when she caught sight of Kallian making her way over to her.

The elf was carrying Leliana's bow in one hand and her own jacket in the other. Passing the weapon over, Kallian quickly shrugged on her jacket before pulling her gloves out of one of the pockets. "I don't know why I volunteer for things; it has never once turned out well."

"Oh? I would say that it went rather smoothly for the most part."

Kallian glanced at her. "We were attacked by dead people. That was not smooth, that was seriously fucked up."

"You need to look at the bright side of things." Leliana smiled to show that she was just teasing. "We are alive and inside of the keep. Plus, if I am not mistaken, it seemed as though your dog was having a splendid time. He does seem to have a boundless enthusiasm for dismemberment."

"Yeah, he's awesome."

As if he could tell that they were talking about him, the Mabari looked up and wagged his tail happily. Leliana blanched when she saw that he was holding a severed head in between his massive jaws. "Does he….um, eat them? The body parts I mean."

Kallian shook her head. "Not that I've seen. Mostly, it just seems like he tosses them up in the air and rolls them around. It's actually kinda cute."

"If you say so"

"Are we talking about the dog?" Oghren trundled up to join them and scratched his chin. "Ya' know, I've never been partial to animals myself, but he's a good enough sort. I just wish he'd stop shaking off the saddle every time I get it half-way on. Stubborn little bastard…"

There was a pause, and then Kallian turned to look at him. "Saddle?"

"Yeah, damn thing was hard to make with just scrap leather and he doesn't seem to like it much."

"You've…been trying to saddle my dog?"

"Sure, it's not like I could ride him bareback." Oghren shrugged and waved a hand. "My fruits would get smashed and he's a lot slippier than you'd think. What's worse is that he starts to get all snarly whenever I try to push the issue."

Leliana pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maker, but I hope this is not a euphemism."

"A euph-a-what?"

"Not important," Kallian was glaring at the dwarf. "What is important is that someone owes me five sovereigns."

Oghren muttered something under his breath and began rummaging around in the purse at his side. After a moment, he produced several gold pieces and handed them over with a scowl. "I don't even know why I'm paying ya'. Chances are the elf counted fast just so you'd win."

"No one likes a sore loser…and stay away from my dog."

Oghren grunted before folding his arms and staring moodily at the snow. "Fine, but you're standin' in the way of progress. The things we could do with a legion of Mabari Calvary."

Leliana found herself stifling a laugh as she turned away from the two of them to check on the others. While none of their group seemed injured, she suspected that was because the soldiers had done the majority of the fighting. That said, the knights had only lost a handful of men to the undead. The remaining force had gathered in the center of the courtyard and seemed to receiving orders from the sergeant who had carried Kallian's rope for her.

A quick perusal told her that Alistair was trying to gather their companions all together. Lightly touching Kallian's shoulder, Leliana pointed in his direction. "If I'm not mistaken, I think we are preparing to leave soon. Perhaps we should go over?"

"Good call"

The three of them shuffled across the frozen courtyard with the dog trailing after them . Around them, the surviving soldiers were in the process of gathering all the corpses together into a pile. Leliana assumed that they would burn them; conventional wisdom taught that only fire and cold iron could keep the dead from rising. Even if it sounded a touch superstitious, she knew that there was plenty of wisdom to be found in the folklore of the common man.

"—want to make sure that doesn't happen at all costs." Alistair broke off whatever he was saying to Sten as they approached. "Oh good, I was just about to go over and talk to you. I've been thinking about it, and I believe it would be a good idea to leave a few of us here with the gate."

Kallian tilted her head. "Why? I doubt these things are going to come back."

"I agree, but there might be more in the castle and I doubt any of us want to have our only avenue of escape closed off. I'll certainly breathe easier knowing that we have a position to fall back on in case things go poorly inside. Teagan's going to leave a few soldiers as well, so we should be fine with just leaving a few as a rearguard."

"A good plan, but which of us are going to be staying behind?" Wynne sounded weary when she spoke up.

Alistair looked over the group with a calculating eye. "You and Morrigan are definitely going inside; I want as many mages as possible when we run into Connor. I'm thinking that Sten and Oghren can hold the gate with Zevran providing ranged support. Now that I think about it, how about we leave Boss here as well?"

He made it into a question and directed it at Kallian. Glancing over to where her dog was merrily gnawing on a skull, the elf responded with a small shrug. "Might as well, I doubt he'd enjoy going in there anyway."

"Great, is everyone clear on what they're doing?"

There was a chorus of agreement that varied in enthusiasm from person to person. Still, no one challenged Alistair's decision and Leliana found herself smiling as she watched the man. It hadn't been all that long ago since he had confessed his fears about leadership and she was pleased to see he was developing significantly as a person.

Leliana was pleased that she would be going inside with Kallian and Alistair. As horrifying as the situation was, the storyteller in her was consumed with curiosity. This was like some childhood fairytale where the band of heroes bravely ventured into the haunted castle to save the captured prince.

She liked those stories; they always had a happy ending.

…

xxXxx

Once they were inside, Castle Redcliffe was no more inviting that it had appeared from the exterior.

The entrance hall somehow managed to be both darker and colder than the world outside. Not a single torch was lit and the stone walls seemed almost sullen in their unbroken silence. Though the décor appeared almost untouched, the room felt as broken as the burned houses they had seen back in Redcliffe.

Behind her, Morrigan murmured a few words of magic and a flickering plume of fire blossomed in her outstretched palm. With a grand gesture, the witch swept her hand across the room and sent small emotes of light sailing towards each of the individual torches that were set into the walls. A bare moment later, the room was filled with a warm orange light that chased away some of the bleak atmosphere.

"Keep an eye out, we should be ready for anything." Alistair took one of the torches off the wall and motioned for the nearest soldiers to do the same. "We'll make for the main hall, if we don't find Connor we can move up to the upper level."

They passed through the entrance hall and into a linking passage that led deeper into the bowels of the keep. Leliana fitted an arrow to her bowstring but didn't bother to drawn it as they moved along the wide corridor. There were no immediate threats and she trusted in Kallian's keen senses to alert them to anything of note long before it was upon them. Moreover, traveling with Morrigan and Wynne had taught her the incredible power that mages wielded. If anything was here, it probably had more to fear from them than the other way around.

Before long, the passageway emptied out into a wide room that was dominated by an imposing fireplace. Though the wide stone hearth was dark at the moment, Leliana imagined that the entire room would be bathed in heat once it a fire was kindled in the grand space. At first, she thought the room was empty, but then Lady Isolde let off a startled cry.

"C-Connor? Is that you?" The noblewoman's voice was a curious mixture of hope and terror.

Leliana wasn't sure who the woman was talking to at first, but then she caught a glimpse of the huddled shape sitting in the middle of the room. Mostly shrouded in the deep shadows of the hall, the small figure stirred at the sound of his mother's voice. Slowly, as if waking form a dream, the child stood up and turned to face them.

"Why are you here? Don't you know that it is rude to enter a house without asking the permission of its lord?"

The voice that erupted from the boy's mouth was so unnatural that Leliana was filled with an irrational urge to kill the thing that stood in front of her. Even though Alistair held up a hand to stop the group from advancing, Leliana circled off to the left so that she'd have a clear line of fire. She wouldn't act unless it proved necessary, but she also wanted to be certain that this would end quickly if things took a turn for the worst.

Alistair raised his torch to cast some light on the thin silhouette. "We didn't mean to be rude. We would've asked Arl Eamon, but we couldn't seem to find him. Do you know where he is Connor?"

"Father is sick; I'm in charge now."Connor's eyes glowed green for a brief moment. "If you try to hurt him, I will destroy you."

"No one wants to hurt him Connor. All we want to do is talk."

The boy's face twisted in distaste. "That's all anyone wants to do anymore. No one wanted to play even when I told them that they had to. It was supposed to be fun, but they had to go and ruin it with their stupid talking. That's why I had to break them, so they'd stop crying and ruining it."

A shiver shook its way down Leliana's spine and she tightened her grip on the bowstring. "This is no child."

"Please, he's just confused." Lady Isolde frantically tugged on Alistair's arm and gestured towards Connor. "Don't punish him for my mistakes."

Her words seemed to register with Connor. Turning his head to her, the boy lifted one skinny arm and pointed at the woman. "Mother, I've been waiting for you to come back. I've been very lonely since you left. _**Here,**__**come sit by my side. You can be my queen.**__"_

Lady Isolde gave a soft sort of sigh at his words. Releasing Alistair's arm, the woman began to move towards her son with the uneven steps of a sleepwalker. Alistair made a startled exclamation at her actions and tried to grab hold of her before she got too far away. "No! It's not safe!"

Isolde stepped away from his hand and didn't give even the slightest response to his warning. Alistair made as if to go after her, but seemed to think better of it after glancing over at Connor. Turning his head he spoke in a quiet whisper. "Kallian, while he's distracted I want you to get behind him. See if you can take him down without killing him."

The elf murmured an agreement and practically melted into the shadows of the hall. Keeping her eyes on Connor, Leliana was relieved to see that the boy gave no indication of noticing Kallian's progress. Indeed, he seemed preoccupied with whatever delusion he was concocting.

"Good, this is fun isn't it?" Connor reached out and placed a possessive hand on his mother's head once she was seated at his feat. For her part, Isolde simply listed back and forth with a completely vacant look on her face. "Now then mother, we have guests to attend to."

Wynne edged closer to Alistair and spoke in a low whisper. "He's capable of controlling minds; this has progressed even further than I feared. We need to stop him before he has the chance to bend others to his influence. I can do it without harming the child, but I will need a minute or two."

Alistair gave the slightest of nods but kept his eyes on the scene in front of him. "Connor, would it be alright with you if we spoke with Arl Eamon? It's extremely important."

"He can't see visitors right now." Connor's voice took on a sharp edge and he frowned at Alistair. "You're being awfully impolite for guests. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps this is actually a visit from some foreign country bent of taking what is mine?"

"No, all we want is to help you Connor." Alistair held up both his hands in a nonthreatening gesture.

"I don't know if I should believe you. Either way, it might be best if I had some guards to attend me." Connor lifted his hand and gestured to soldiers who stood closest. "_**You lot, come here and be my honor guard. A king should have an honor guard.**_"

Just like Isolde had before them, five of the soldiers immediately broke off from the group and strode over to fall in around the possessed child. Leliana felt a bead of sweat slide down her face as she unconsciously backed up a few steps. This entire situation was making her extremely nervous and the only thing keeping her from drawing her bow was that Wynne was bent over behind Alistair and muttering under her breath in a rapid stream of archaic syllables. For now, she'd trust in the mage's judgment.

Alistair bit out his next words from between his teeth. "Everyone, stay close to me and the other two Templars. We might be able to shield you somewhat if he tries that again."

There was a loud rustling as everyone crowded around the three men. The blood mage Jowan was beginning to make desperate sounds from behind his gag, and one of the mage-hunters cuffed him upside the head to quiet him down. With a jolt, Leliana realized that Kallian was still stalking about in the shadows somewhere.

Connor gave them an imperious look. "There, that's a good start. Tell me then delegate, what would you ask of my kingdom?"

"Well…your Lordship," Alistair sounded incredibly uncomfortable. "We've come as representatives of the Grey Wardens seeking aid from Redcliffe against the Darkspawn Blight. Knowing your country's strength, we hoped you might be willing to lend some aid."

The boy nodded enthusiastically, he seemed pleased that Alistair was playing along. "Of course, I will take command of both out armies. For this service, I will expect the Grey Wardens to deliver one of your griffins to serve as my mount. _**Come; let us retire to the dining hall so we may discuss strategy over a meal.**_"

Leliana felt a horrible rush of vertigo as her body suddenly started to move forward against her will. Helpless, she tried to scream as her muscles began to operate all on their own. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the horrible compulsion lifted with a crack of displaced air. Staggering, she regained her balance and looked about wildly.

She hadn't been the only one that moved; Bann Teagan and all of his men had also shot forward at the command of their "host". Only the mages and the three Templars seemed to have resisted the pull. Even so, Alistair and the other two were red-faced and sweating from exertion. If she had to guess, she'd say that they were the reason she wasn't currently dining with a demon.

Connor glowered over at them. "It is extremely rude to refuse an invitation to a meal. I cannot help but think that this offense will jeopardize our—" He paused and whipped his head over to the side in surprise. "What's this! _**Stop skulking in the shadows and join us!**_"

Wincing, Leliana braced herself for another magical assault that never came. Instead, she felt a terrible sinking feeling in her chest when she saw Kallian stumbled out of the shadows at Connor's command. Walking unsteadily, the elf slowly made her way over to stand before Connor.

Alistair gave a quiet curse beside her. "Damnit…Wynne, you need to hurry up with whatever the hell your doing."

"What's this, an elf in my court?" Connor brightened up considerably and gave a gleeful clap. "Excellent, I've already run out of those. The other ones broke so easily."

Something inside Leliana went cold and she drew back her notched arrow in a single, smooth motion. Doing so drew Connor's attention and she had the satisfaction of watching his face turn white with fear. "No more Alistair, this has gone far enough!"

"_**Assassins! Kill them my subjects, defend your king!**_" Connor pointed towards them and his eyes blazed with green light.

Three things happened almost simultaneously. All of Connor's "subjects" lurched towards them even as the arrow left Leliana's bowstring with a thrum of release. It was a good shot, but just seconds before it buried itself in Connor's chest, the room exploded in a flash of blinding orange light.

It was like all the sound had been sucked out of the room. Where just a moment before that had been a clamor of yells and cries as everyone readied for combat, there was now a silence so deep that Leliana could practically feel it in the air around her. Half-blinded by the earlier flash, Leliana stumbled backwards while blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear her vision.

Slowly, the sounds of the world came back into being in a gradual measure. Once she had chased the flashing lights from her vision, Leliana straightened up and looked around in bafflement. The room was now generously lit by what appeared to be a gigantic pillar of fire that had been frozen in place. Pale-gold in color, the static flame was easily six-feet in diameter and it stood where Connor had just before the magical flash from earlier.

Beside her, Wynne let out a faint moan before lowering herself to the ground while clutching at her head. "Maker, but I've forgotten how hard that is."

There was a chorus of murmured voices as everyone in the room started talking all at once. The people Connor had possessed seemed to moving around by the own volition, but Leliana noticed that more than a few freed soldiers had tears running down their cheeks. She could understand that; losing control of her body had been utterly terrifying.

Bad as some of them looked, they were all in a better state compared to Kallian.

The elf had collapsed to her hands and knees in the middle of the room. Even from where she was standing, Leliana could hear Kallian's ragged breath as she sucked in deep lungfuls of air. Wondering what had gone wrong; Leliana hurried to her side and dropped her bow as she knelt next to the elf.

"Kallian, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" She tried to place a hand on the elf's shoulder only to have it violently knocked away.

Shocked, she watched as Kallian lurched away from her. Regaining her feet, Kallian clutched at her chest and took a few more shaky breaths. After a few beats, she swallowed heavily and lowered her hand. "I'm fine…j-just give me some space."

"Of course" Leliana nodded and tried to keep from frowning as a handful of confused thoughts rushed through her head. Kallian had a wild look in her eyes and Leliana noticed that her hands were trembling even though the elf kept them clenched at her side.

Alistair walked up to them with a stormy expression. "Leliana, I would have preferred if you had _not _done that. I understand why you acted, but it very nearly killed Connor. More than that, it went against everything we had planned."

"Nearly?" Leliana could have sworn that her arrow had found her mark. "He's alive then?"

"Yes, Wynne's magic reached him a second before it was too late. Come and see"

Casting a questioning look at Kallian as she moved to follow Alistair, Leliana blinked when she noticed that the other woman had already started walking in the opposite direction. Suppressing her urge to follow after her, Leliana turned and walked over to where Alistair stood next to the pillar of golden fire.

Once she drew close, she found that the fire was actually rather transparent. In the center of the magical creation, Connor stood frozen in act of pointing towards where their group had once stood. It was like he had somehow been frozen in that exact moment of time. Looking even closer, Leliana could faintly make out the slender shaft of her arrow as it hung suspended in the amber material. Alistair hadn't been exaggerating; the point of the arrow was only a few inches from contacting with the boy's chest.

"What is this?" She reached out a hand as if to pass it through the golden flame.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Wynne's voice stopped her short and she turned to see the older woman approach with Morrigan at her heels. "Interacting with an active stasis can sometimes cause unexpected complications for non-mages."

"So this is a stasis; I was wondering if that's what it was." Alistair studied the odd fire from a safe distance away. "I learned about them during Templar training, but hardly any mages can actually create one. That's pretty amazing actually."

Morrigan scoffed. "Needlessly complex, there are several hexes that would have done the same. 'Twould have been faster as well."

"Most of those run the risk of driving the subject insane. Considering he's being possessed by a demon, I'd say that would be a rather unfavorable outcome." Wynne gave Morrigan a dry look before turning back to the stasis. "The arrow is something of an inconvenience. It will retain its velocity and direction once I lower the field and that will be a complication for the child. I think we might be able to push a shield in between his chest and the arrow if we use a poll to guide it. I doubt Leliana's arrow could pierce one of the soldier's shields."

"Yes, that is inconvenient." Alistair gave Leliana a meaningful look that made her bristle.

"I apologize for going against your wishes, but I did what I thought was best. There was no way of knowing what he would have done next and I didn't want to see Kallian hurt because of it." She lifted her chin and stared back at him coolly.

Alistair's expression softened. "You're right, that was just a bad situation and I can't fault you for trying to end it. Truth be told, it was probably the right decision."

Leliana was a little surprised by his concession, but she quickly gave him a smile that she hoped seemed apologetic. A commotion behind her made her turn just in time to see Teagan and Isolde approach with the blood mage in tow. Someone had removed Jowan's gag, but the mage still had his hands bound behind his back. Isolde was the first to reach them and only Alistair's timely intervention stopped her from reaching into the magical stasis.

"Connor! Is he alright?"

Wynne looked up with a sympathetic expression. "He's possessed, but he is not yet a true abomination. While that is not exactly good news, it does mean that there is hope to free him from the demon's hold."

"How?" Isolde clutched at Wynne's hands like she was Andraste herself.

"It is not a simple remedy. In order to banish a demon, one must find a way to enter the Fade and killing the creature inside Connor's mind. Of the two, killing the demon will actually be the simpler task. Finding a way into the Fade is not something that is done lightly."

Bann Teagan cleared his throat softly. "Is there anything I can do to assist in that?"

"Not unless you have a large amount of concentrated lyrium lying around." Wynne gave a weary sigh and withdrew her hands from Isolde's hold. "The amount of lyrium we'd require is tremendous. It's a veritable fortune and the only place with that type of supply is the Circle Tower itself."

Alistair mouth twisted into a bitter expression. "Of course, why should this be easy?"

"Excuse me my lords," the blood mage spoke hesitantly. Leliana glanced at Jowan in surprise; she hadn't expected him to speak. "But, there might be another way into the Fade."

Lady Isolde rounded on him with a murderous expression. "Hold your tongue viper!"

"Easy Isolde, this is why we brought him along in the first place." Teagan placed a restraining hand on her shoulder and turned to face Jowan. When he spoke, he made his distaste clear. "Well, if you have something to say, I suggest you say it quick."

Jowan licked his lips nervously and glanced over at Wynne. "Getting into the Fade requires a lot of energy, but it doesn't need to come from lyrium. I know how this will sound, but I can open a similar portal through the use of blood magic."

No one spoke for a moment as a number of significant glances were exchanged. After a few uncomfortable beats, Alistair stroked his chin and spoke in a neutral tone. "Elaborate please, how exactly would you open this portal?"

"Even if I told you, only the mages would understand the technical aspect. What's important is the cost of such of thing. I'll need to…take a life to perform such a feat."

"Absolutely not," Alistair shook his head. "Even if we had a volunteer for such a thing, I would not have you wielding that kind of power. We'd have to take it on faith alone that you wouldn't use the sacrifice to escape from imprisonment."

Jowan closed his eyes. "Please….I only want to help Connor. He deserves better than this."

Lady Isolde looked between Alistair and the blood mage for a long moment. "I will give my life for his, Alistair."

"You must understand," Wynne spoke up quickly. "There is no guarantee that this will work even if we manage to work our way into the Fade. It's possible that Connor's mind has been irrevocably corrupted by the demon's influence."

Jowan nodded in agreement. "We'll need a mage to go into the Fade as well; I will have to remain here in order to keep the gateway open."

Morrigan let out a scornful sound before gathering her staff and striding off towards another part of the hall. Watching her go, Leliana had the distinct impression that the witch would not be offering her services any time soon. If this was to be their plan, Wynne would have to be the one to enter the Fade.

"No…no, I'm sorry Isolde, but the risk is tremendous and the results are unsure." Alistair sounded ten years older as he spoke. "We won't give up on Connor, but allowing an assassin to use blood magic is simply out of the question."

"If not that, then what?" Isolde's voice cracked and she seemed to sag into herself.

Alistair frowned in thought. "We'll send a messenger to the Circle Tower by horse requesting aid and lyrium. It's a day's ride from here if the horse is swift and they owe us for what we did. It's not perfect, but it's the best plan we have."

"No."

Kallian's voice ranged out with flat authority from behind them. Stalking forth like a predatory cat, Kallian moved to stand before Alistair. Facing him directly, the elf folded her arms. "That's not the best plan. Actually, that sounds like a shit one in my opinion."

"What would you suggest?" Alistair was frowning down at her.

Kallian jerked her head towards Connor's frozen form. "Kill him"

There was a moment of stunned silence before Isolde let out a shrill cry. "That is crazy! Teagan, tell her that is out of the question!"

Leliana watched Kallian with a hollow feeling in her stomach. Truthfully, it wasn't that surprising a suggestion; Kallian's cold rationality manifested itself every once in a while. Leliana tried to catch her eye, but the elf hadn't looked at anyone except Alistair.

Bann Teagan was trying to speak. "Listen, I don't pretend to know much about magic, but killing a child seems….unthinkable. For the Maker's sake, he's my nephew."

"Teagan, would you do me a favor and take Isolde somewhere else for a moment. I need to speak with my fellow Warden." Alistair sounded very tired. "Let me assure you, we won't be making any decisions without having you present."

Lady Isolde looked as though she were about to say something, but the Bann gently steered her away from the group. Soon after, Jowan and his Templar escort moved to follow the two nobles. Once they were out of earshot, Kallian spoke once again.

"Wynne, how long will you be able to hold this…thing?" Kallian asked the question without looking away from Alistair.

"If I keep pouring energy into it? A few hours."

Kallian lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "What happens then Alistair? What are we supposed to do when he wakes up and decides to start taking control of people again?"

"We'll withdraw to the city." Alistair's face had taken on a hard quality in response to Kallian's hostility. "No one will go near the castle until the mages and Templars arrive. When they do, we go in with their support and subdue Connor long enough to perform the ritual."

"My understanding was that this gets worse the longer it goes."

It was a question, but who she was directing it to was something of a mystery. After an awkward pause, Wynne gave a small nod. "That's true; every minute he spends with the demon creates a stronger bond between the two of them. By tomorrow, it might even progress to the point where the demon can create a bridge from our world to the Fade. We would have a full demonic incursion then, similar to what occurred at the Circle Tower. In addition, Connor could become a full abomination at literally any moment. There is a risk involved in delaying our response to this."

"Ordering the death of a child is extreme, even for you." Alistair was trying to keep his tone composed.

"He's not a child; he's a sodding disaster waiting to happen." Kallian dismissed Alistair's statement with an odd little motion of her head. "Killing him is probably a mercy considering he's had a demon inside of him. It's better than using blood magic at the least. Nothing good can come of something like that."

Alistair took a step towards her. "This isn't your decision to make."

Leliana began to glance nervously between the two Wardens. Though their exchange hadn't quite become threatening, she had an awful feeling that it was on the brink of devolving into a nasty argument. The logical part of her mind agreed with Kallian, but killing a child in cold blood was not something she liked to consider. She had been willing to kill Connor, but that was when he was on the verge of hurting someone she cared for. This…this was something else entirely.

"No, it's not my decision." Kallian gave him a smile that made Leliana shiver. "These aren't my people and I'm not in charge here. What you do with this pack of shems is your concern, but know that their blood will be on your hands when this all goes tits up. So, you do what you think is best Alistair and I'll go along with it."

Alistair looked stricken. Dropping his gaze, the man drew in a deep breath. "…I can't kill a child, Kallian."

"Then I'll do it; that will keep your conscious clean." Kallian's eyes were hard. "I don't want this anymore than you, but this has to end today one way or the other. It's a question of one person dying versus potentially losing an entire town."

Alistair turned away and moved a few steps away from her. After a few moments, he shook his head with a sigh. "Maker curse you, but you're right. We'd be lucky if the lyrium arrived in a week considering the weather and the state of the Tower. This sounds awful, but Ferelden needs Redcliffe more than it needs a single child."

"It's our duty."

Alistair stared down at her in silence for a time. Then, with obvious resignation, he turned to Wynne. "If Isolde is still willing to go through with the blood magic, are you willing to enter the Fade in order to banish the demon?"

"If that is your decision, then I will do all I can to help."

"Thank you…I'm going to go talk with Isolde and Teagan." He ran a hand through his hair and looked over at Kallian. "This is going to end today, but if we might be able to save an innocent victim. Eamon and Isolde are responsible for this however indirectly. If she is willing to die for her child, then I'm willing to risk the blood magic."

Kallian gave a small nod in response.

With a quick look at both Leliana and Wynne, Alistair gathered himself up and made his way over to where the two nobles were holding each other. Leliana shivered as she thought about how that conversation would go. Feeling a pang of sympathy for Alistair, Leliana tentatively moved over to where Kallian was staring off at nothing in particular.

"Are you feeling better? From before, I mean."

Kallian started and looked over with a guarded expression. "After all that? No, I feel like a monster."

"No matter what we do, it will be the wrong choice in its own way. All you did was stand up for what you thought was best. If it helps, I think that your choice was the one that a Grey Warden should have made."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing and it didn't make me feel any better."

The conversation died after that. Still, Leliana stood with her until Alistair came back with the nobles and the blood mage in tow. She had no wish to see what came next, so she excused herself and left to take up a position back at the outside gate. She looked back briefly before leaving, just long enough to catch a glimpse of Kallian and Alistair standing together.

As different as they were, she found herself thinking that they had never looked more alike.

* * *

I always enjoy reading any comments you guys have regarding the plot or the characters. I've been anxious to write the next two chapters for a long time and I'm hoping to do a lot of work on them fairly quickly. It's time to start reviving a few plot points that haven't made an appearance for a while.

As always, thanks so much for everyone who reads and reviews. I'm not gonna bullshit you and say that I don't love getting reviews. They are my anti-drug, so please consider doing your part in the war against meth.


	20. Human Qualities

**A/N:** Ya know, people throw the phrase "grotesquely delayed update" around a lot these days...

Chapter 20: Human Qualities

Castle Redcliffe

* * *

xxXxx

...

_She killed the one on top of her first._

_In the ensuing moments that followed her awakening, she turned her gaze up to look at him. An unimpressive example of his race, the man's face was a sweaty mask of contorted muscles as he moved against her. Once he noticed that her eyes were open, the human struck her across the face while muttering a snarled curse. The force of his blow rocked her head to one sidemand filled her mouth with the coppery taste of blood. Despite this, there was no pain._

_There was only the Cold._

_She tried to move only to find that one of his hands held both of her wrists trapped above her head. With his weight pinning her to the bed, her range of motion was restricted considerably. It was inconvenient…but hardly insurmountable. Pulling her head back, she patiently waited until his motions brought him close enough to present an opportunity._

_When the timing was right, she lunged forward and sank her teeth into the side of his neck._

_The man screeched like a pig and instinctively tried to jerk away. He released her arms and struck at her body in a vain attempt to dislodge her from his flesh. Indifferent to his panicked flailing, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him close as though they were lovers. Shaking her head from side-to-side like a dog that had caught a rat, she bit down harder until his skin gave way. Warm, arterial blood gushed into her mouth before spilling over her chin in a bubbling tide. _

_She shoved his convulsing body away with enough force to send him sprawling off the side of the bed. Clapping his hands to his neck in a futile attempt to keep his lifeblood from pouring out, the human tried to scramble away from her even as he died. Some part of her found the terrified agony in his eyes to be gratifying._

_He should be frightened. She was death._

_Moving to the edge of the bed, she swung her legs over the side and stood up. From somewhere nearby, wondrous music had begun to ring out in joyful tones that echoed off the stone walls around her. Closing her eyes to bask in the fathomless brilliance of the sound, she almost did not notice the door to the room being flung open._

_Lazily, she turned her head to regard the three humans who stood gaping at her. Like an old friend, the music moved around her in a gentle caress as it sought to imbue purpose. It told her about what they had done, and about what must be done to them in turn. Almost as an afterthought, the music singled out the red-haired human at the back. That one would have to die last, frightened and helpless._

_She nodded in understanding. That was something she could do. _

_The humans were shouting now; loud yells that were equal parts confusion and outrage. One of them, a brawny creature with a heavy brow, snatched an iron candlestick off a nearby table and shook it menacingly when he rounded on her. Seething with the Cold, she stepped forward to begin her work._

_Slow as a kitten playing at combat, the human hefted his makeshift weapon and swung a powerful blow at her head. Stepping back to avoid the clumsy strike, she positioned herself to his left. Once he had steadied himself after his first attempt, the man immediately lunged at her with another scything blow._

_It was a foolish mistake._

_She flowed underneath the attack and rammed her knee into the vulnerable area between his legs. Gasping in pain, the human dropped his weapon and stumbled forward with both of his hands moving to cover the wounded extremity. Ignoring his fumbling attempts to push her away, she raised her hands up to grip either side of his face. With a vague feeling of clinical disinterest, she forcibly drove both of her thumbs into his eye sockets._

_The music swelled to accompany the man's scream._

_Blood welled around her questing digits as he collapsed to his knees. Clawing at her forearms in hopeless agony, the human's piercing crys rose ever higher as she forced her thumbs in deeper. Abruptly releasing him, she stepped back and watched as the human clutched at the ruin of his face. After a moment of consideration, she bent down and picked up the iron ornament he had dropped earlier. Swinging it around in a wide arc, she caved in the side of his skull with a wet crunch._

_Letting the candlestick fall from uncaring fingers, she stepped around the dead meat and moved forward. One of the two remaining humans made a soft sound of horror before scrambling for a small knife that was sheathed at his side. As soon as he drew it free, he held it out in front of him in a trembling grip. The moment she came within range, he lunged forward with a desperate thrust._

_Sidestepping the feeble attempt, she caught his wrist in one hand and sharply twisted his arm to trap the limb. Wrenching his entire body around with her new leverage, she drove her free hand into the back of his elbow. He screamed aloud as the hyper-extended joint bent the wrong direction before snapping altogether._

_Not yet finished, she twisted his broken arm behind his back and grabbed hold of his hair with her other hand. From this position, she whirled his body around and drove him face-first into the rough surface of the wall. Using her handhold on his hair, she pulled his head back before slamming it into the unyielding stone again and again._

_When she finally released her hold, there was more of his head on the wall than off it._

_The music reached a thunderous crescendo as her eyes settled on the red-headed human that cowered against the wall. He let off a low moan of horror as she made her way over to him. When she reached out, he sunk down to his knees and raised his hands in supplication._

_He was frightened. He was helpless. _

_And she was Cold._

…

…

xxXxx

Kallian opened her eyes slowly and frowned in confusion.

Even though she tried to hold it in her mind, the memory of the dream eluded her like a shadow at noon. All she could recall was the vague notion of being chilled to the very bone. It was a little unsettling, but she definitely preferred ambiguity over the all too vivid dreams she usually had.

Deciding that it couldn't have been that important, she stretched out and luxuriated in the sensation of sleeping in a real bed for a change. After months of bunking on the hard ground, having a soft mattress to lie on seemed like an unmatchable comfort. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that people made beds that were this big.

Actually, she was more or less amazed about every aspect of the room she had been given. Castle Redcliffe wasn't as big as some of the estates back in Denerim, but her father's entire house could have easily fit inside the bedroom Teagan had offered her. While she had initially felt a little uncomfortable with the luxury, two days of sleeping in the spacious bed had pushed that unease to the very back of her mind.

After indulging in a few more minutes of light dozing, she wrested herself away from the heavy blankets and rose out of the bed. The morning air was bitingly cold in spite of the coals that still glowed in the brazier set into one of the room's corners. Shivering, Kallian walked over to the armoire and pulled out one of the thin robes that lay within. She assumed that they were meant to fall down to the knee on a human woman, but the hem of the garment almost brushed the tops of her feet when she put it on.

Kallian tilted her head as she regarded the clothes that actually belonged to her. Aside from her travel leathers and worn cloak, all she possessed was two cloth shirts and a scattering of underclothes. If Redcliffe managed to get its stores back up and running before they left, she'd have to consider buying something else.

A soft knock at the door drew her attention. Padding across the room quickly, Kallian took hold of the handle and opened the door to reveal a small elven girl of about sixteen years. The girl stared up at her through a veil of blond hair before giving a small curtsey.

"I beg your pardon mistress, but I've pulled a hot bath per your earlier request."

Kallian resisted the urge to grimace. No matter how many times she had tried to get the elven servants to call her by name, they insisted on a more formal address. She suspected that they weren't quite sure how to behave around an elf in her position. "You can just call me Kallian. Thank you for doing that Avelia."

Avelia flashed a shy smile. Like most of the servants currently in the castle, Avelia and her family had been among the lucky few who had not been trapped by Connor's madness. As soon as that problem had been rectified, most of the elves had returned to their former jobs eagerly. "Of course mistress, let me know if there is anything else I may do for you."

The girl gave another curtsey before disappearing down the hallway in a whirl of blond hair. Kallian shook her head in exasperation as she closed the door. If she lived to be a hundred years old, she'd never be comfortable with having a servant. Especially if they kept addressing her like she was some type of human lord.

That discomfort didn't stop her from immediately making her way to the adjoining bathroom. It hadn't taking her long to discover the incomparably fantastic experience that was a hot bath. Now that she had, she knew that bathing in rivers or with a bucket of warm water would never again be enough. She'd miss the baths more than anything else once they had left.

Truth be told, the bathroom itself wasn't all that incredible. The small room was scarcely big enough to fit the large, claw-footed tub that was pressed against the far wall. There were two doors: one connecting the room to the bedroom, and the other leading out into the hallway. Kallian reached over to lock the doorway that led into the hall. There wasn't any reason to leave it open now that Avelia had brought in the hot water, and she didn't want anyone walking in.

Removing her borrowed robe, Kallian hung it on an iron hook that was set into the door. Without any further delay, she stepped into the lightly steaming bath and slid beneath the surface of the water. Reclining fully, she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and let out a contented sigh.

Of all the decisions Alistair had ever made, choosing to remain at Redcliffe had probably been his best. The reason for their stay was simple: Redcliffe was incapable of defending itself at the present time. With the overwhelming majority of the army off looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, the city and the castle were extremely vulnerable to Darkspawn raiders. Alistair's solution was that their party would remain within the city until a sufficient number of soldiers had returned to defend it.

Luckily, that probably wouldn't take as much time as Kallian had initially feared. Shortly after they had reclaimed the castle, Bann Teagan had used some type of magical totem to send the summons out to the scattered knights. Like pretty much every piece of the magic she'd encountered, Kallian didn't really understand how it worked. All she knew or cared about was that the signal had been sent, and that the commanding officers would know to return to the city.

Until then, Kallian was content to relax for the first time in months. Even though none of the others voiced it, she had a feeling that her sentiments were echoed amongst the overtaxed group. It had been far too long since any of them had been able to slow down and take a breath.

The only thing that kept them from outright celebrating the reprieve was the atmosphere of mourning that pervaded the entire town. In the few short days of Connor's "reign", far too many people had died in both the castle and the city itself. Worse still, they had fought their way through a demonic host only to find the most bittersweet victory imaginable. The demon had been expelled from the child's mind, but at the price of his mother's life.

The man responsible for all of this was currently imprisoned beneath the castle in the darkest cell imaginable. Though the blood mage Jowan had tried to convince Alistair and Teagan that he wanted only to make amends, both of them had agreed that he was to await sentencing from the Arl. No one had asked her, but Kallian could only hope that the man would live a long and wretched existence down amongst the other rats. Some things demanded retribution regardless of the intent behind them.

The thought of Connor's brief possession of her body made Kallian shiver in spite of the warm water. Trying to cast the memory from her mind, Kallian tried to think of more pleasant things. This proved difficult as her thoughts kept straying back to that eternity of helplessness. If Alistair and Leliana hadn't stopped Connor when they did…..

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. The last thing in the world that she needed was to stir up her own memories. Focusing on the alluring heat of the water, Kallian dunked her head under the water so that she could wash her hair. It helped to occupy her thoughts and she liked the way the perfumed water made her smell.

Kallian stayed in the bath until the water grew became too cool for comfort. Stepping out of the tub, she drew the thin robe around her slender shoulders to ward off some of the winter's chill. She combed her fingers through her wet hair and reentered the bedroom. As tempting as it was to just climb back into bed and try to get some more sleep, Kallian forced herself to make a beeline to where her pack was leaning against the stone wall.

She opened the backpack's fastenings so that she could quickly survey the contents. There were still a few things she would need before she was ready for tonight, but most of those would have to come from Zevran. Mentally going over her checklist, Kallian realized that she probably hadn't needed to steal a bottle that was _that _expensive. Really, any of the other bottles in the Arl's cellar would have probably worked just as well as the one she had ended up taking. The only thing that separated her choice from the others was a hundred sovereigns or so.

Kallian shrugged and refastened the bag. In all likelihood, that wine would be the last thing she ever tasted. She might as well enjoy it.

She had just placed the pack down when someone knocked on her door. Briefly wondering if it was Avelia once again, Kallian ensured that her robe covered everything it needed to before making her way across the room. Shrugging off the impulse to ask who it was, Kallian decided to live dangerously and opened the door with a quick jerk. The second she did, Kallian found herself looking at someone who was most certainly not an elven servant.

It took her a moment to get her bearings. "Oh…um, hey."

Leliana smiled down at her in a way that made Kallian's heart beat a little faster. As good as the bard looked in battle leathers, she seemed even more beautiful when wearing a dress. Though she had chosen an uncomplicated ensemble of green and cream-colored cloth, Leliana somehow managed to look both regal and approachable all at once. That type of easy elegance was one of the many things about Leliana that Kallian privately envied. One of Soris's favorite jokes had been about how putting Kallian in a dress was roughly equivalent to putting a bow on a badger.

Looking rather amused, Leliana gave Kallian a slow once-over. "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

"Not at all, I just got out of the bath a minute ago." Kallian stepped to one side so that Leliana could walk into the room. "You'll have to forgive the bathrobe; it's kinda the only thing I had that wasn't dirty or bloodstained."

"It's funny that you should say that. I've actually been thinking about helping you expand your wardrobe a little. As a matter of fact, part of why I came here is to give you some things that I picked up in the town earlier this morning." Leliana drew Kallian's attention to a paper-wrapped parcel that the bard had brought in with her.

Kallian shut the door and tried not to feel too self-conscious in her thin robe. "You got me something? I thought all the shops were still closed."

"They are, but you can still find a willing vendor if you know where to look." Leliana smiled and held out the package invitingly. "I'll be curious to see if these fit you; it's a little hard to find things in your size and I'm afraid I had to have the tailor alter them quite a lot."

"Thanks Leliana, I'm sure they'll be great." Kallian took the bundle from her and moved over to place it on the bed. It wasn't often that she received gifts, and she was genuinely touched that Leliana had done something so thoughtful.

Once she had divested the package of its wrappings, Kallian gently unfolded the contents with a small smile. In addition to several shirts, Leliana had seen fit to give her a pair of leather leggings that were much nicer than the worn pair she was currently using. She stroked a finger along the soft skin of the garment and cast a glance back to where the bard stood.

"These are amazing. Thank you Leliana."

Leliana moved forward and lifted one shirt to hold against Kallian's chest. "You are very welcome. This green will go well with your skin tone. I had a feeling that you would look better in the cooler colors. It will certainly be more flattering than that maroon shirt of yours.

"What's wrong with that shirt? I like that shirt." Kallian furrowed her brow and glanced back at her armoire.

"Well, for one thing, it is a man's shirt." Leliana did a poor job of hiding her smile as she held up another garment against Kallian's front. "But even if that were not the case, I would think that you get tired of rolling your sleeves up every time you put it on."

Kallian shrugged. "We took it off some dead bandits back in Lothering. I'd say it was a pretty good find all things considered."

"Perhaps, but why settle when you have options?"

"I guess I can't argue with that." Kallian paused as something occurred to her. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she glanced down at the Leliana's gift and spoke softly. "These must have cost a lot. You really shouldn't have done this. It's too much."

Next to her, Leliana carefully folded the shirt she was holding. "Please, don't let me give you the impression that I spent a fortune. I happened to find a rather nice tailor who was willing to give a small discount to the people who had helped to save his town. Come to think of it, I was even able to talk him into knocking off an additional twenty percent once all was said and done."

"Oh Maker," Kallian relaxed a little and rolled her eyes. "Tell me you didn't hit him with your bard thing just to make him charge less."

"Bard thing? Pray tell, what exactly is my 'bard thing'?" Leliana quirked a single delicate brow as she leaned against the bedpost.

In response, Kallian cocked her hip to one side and jutted out her chest to empathize her modest bust. Putting on the breathiest voice she could manage, Kallian used her hand to fan her face. "Oh Mister Templar, I would be ever so indebted to you if you could just use your muscular arms to row us to the other side of the lake! I'll warn you though, I'm deathly afraid of boat rides and might just jump right into your lap if things get a little too rough out there."

Leliana tilted her head back and burst into laughter. It was a warm and delighted sound that made the room seem brighter by association. Feeling a smile of her own tugging against her lips, Kallian watched as the other woman composed herself. When she did, Leliana looked back at her with dancing blue eyes. "I had no idea I was so charming. No wonder it works so well."

"It's practically blood magic." Kallian folded her arms and gave a mock huff. "So is that the only reason you came by? To drop off a bunch of beautiful clothes that you practically stole off some poor tailor? Not that I'm planning on returning them of course."

For a moment, Leliana just watched her with a small grin. Then, the red-haired woman pushed off the bedpost and closed the distance between them with unhurried steps. "The only reason? No, I do believe that there was something else I needed to do."

"Don't hold me in suspense; what is it?"

"Hmm…let me see if I can remember." Leliana's voice was a low purr and her accent made each word into a promising caress. "I recall that it was something terribly important."

At some point in the conversation, Kallian's robe had fallen slightly open at the neck. Leliana raised a hand and ghosted her fingertips along Kallian's collarbone before moving up to brush against the side of her face. Leaning into the touch, Kallian stepped a little closer to loop her arms around Leliana's waist in a loose embrace. She sighed and closed her eyes as the warmth of Leliana's body soaked through her thin gown. After a moment, Kallian tilted her face up and gave the bard a lazy grin.

"Any ideas on what it could be?"

"Now that you ask, I think that it is coming back to me." Leliana lowered her head as though she were about to kiss Kallian. At the last moment however, she moved her head to the side so that her lips were right next to Kallian's ear. "It's something that I absolutely must tell you."

"Oh?" Kallian shivered as Leliana's whispered words tickled her sensitive ear. Warmth was pooling in the bottom of her stomach, and she wondered what Leliana had planned. Whatever it was, Kallian was more the ready to skip past the teasing and get on with it.

"Yes, I need to tell you…" Leliana stroked a hand along Kallian's back before leaning in even closer. "…..That Alistair wants us to meet in the main hall in a half hour's time."

Kallian opened her eyes in puzzlement just before Leliana stepped out of her hold with a graceful movement. In a blur of red hair, Leliana spun around and strode off towards the door. Just as she reached it, the bard turned back to give Kallian an innocent look. "He says that we will be discussing our next move. I'm sure you don't want to be late."

With a grin that was all mischief, Leliana opened the door and disappeared into the hallway without another word. For a long moment, Kallian couldn't do anything but stare stupidly after her. Then, with a small sigh, she sat down at the edge of her bed with a despairing shake of her head.

"Ok….that wasn't funny."

…

xxXxx

Twenty minutes later, Kallian stepped out of her room and made for the main hall.

After entirely too much deliberation, she had finally chosen to wear the white shirt that Leliana had gotten her. She liked the way it seemed to make her skin glow. Though she didn't recognize the fabric, the light material felt pleasantly smooth to the touch. It also fit better than anything she had owned since she had left the Alienage. Next time they were alone, she'd have to find a way to thank Leliana for all of this.

Coming to the wooden door that led into the keep's main hall, Kallian felt unusually carefree as she pushed her way into the large room. For the first time in a long time, she was clean and dressed in something that actually looked good. She was in a place that wasn't dangerous, and she had her favorite knife resting against the small of her back. By her reckoning, that all came together to paint a fairly optimistic picture.

Once inside the hall, Kallian was a little surprised to see that she was alone in the room. Wondering if Leliana had been right about the time of the meeting, she aimlessly strolled across the stone floor and decided she'd wait for a little while before going to look for someone. The room was mostly unadorned save for a few tapestries and a sword that hung above the fireplace. At the center of the room, a massive, oval-shaped table dominated the surrounding space.

With nothing better to do, Kallian walked over to the wide fireplace and gazed at the sword above the hearth. Almost as long as she was tall, it was clear that the weapon was meant to be wielded with both hands. The blade was twice as wide as one of her hands, and both sides were sharpened to a gleaming edge. For its obviously high quality, the weapon was functional and unadorned save for a small cap of silver on the end of the pommel.

Kallian folded her arms and tilted her head like she was looking at a painting. She had helped Sten recover his lost sword the other day. The dwarf who had bought it from Fayrn had been rather displeased when they reclaimed it, but Kallian was slowly learning that no one made too much of a fuss when Sten was with her. Aside from the massive stick that seemed to be permanently jammed up his ass, Sten was actually pretty fun to have around.

She let her eyes trail along the shining metal of the sword as she tried to guess how much it was worth. One thing she had never understood about shems was their tendency to display weapons like they were beautiful or important. To Kallian, weapons had always been nasty things that you jabbed into someone whenever you wanted them to start leaking. Even then, it was better if no one saw the damn thing until it was already buried in their belly.

"Its name is Consequence."

The voice came from close behind her and she started in surprise. Turning around quickly, Kallian mentally berated herself for letting her mind wander to the point where someone could actually sneak up on her. She relaxed by the slightest of margins when she recognized the new arrival as the Bann Teagan. The nobleman had his eyes locked onto the sword she had been admiring.

"Eamon named it that when Father had it made for him." Teagan's voice was soft in tone, but rough in quality. "I remember asking him what he was thinking when he named a sword something like that. Do you know what he said?"

After taking a small step backwards to increase the distance between them, Kallian gave a slight shake of her head.

"He told me that it was easy to take a life and impossible to give one back. For Eamon, using that sword to kill another person implied a responsibility. His belief was that men should always be conscious of the fact that war and death carry a terrible price for everyone who is involved. By naming his sword thusly, he hoped to ensure that he would never forget that fact."

Kallian glanced at the weapon. "I see."

"That sounded trite when I said it; didn't it?" Teagan turned to her and flashed a tired smile. "I promise you that sounded a hundred times more noble and dignified when Eamon said it to me. I've never met anyone who could put something as well as he can."

"It sounded fine."

After a moment, the Bann let out a low breath before turning to face her. "I know that we were introduced, but I feel as though we never really had a chance to properly meet one another with all that has happened. Your name is Kallian isn't it?"

"Yes, that's correct my lord." Kallian spoke carefully and kept her eyes on the human. Though his manner was seemingly cordial, she didn't like the fact that she was alone with noble. "Are you here for the meeting as well?"

"Not by choice, but Alistair insisted that I attend. I cannot help but feel as though it is not my place to influence your actions."

He walked closer and Kallian fought the urge to jerk back in response. "I'm sure that a Bann is more than qualified to do that."

"Please, just call me Teagan. I feel like an old man every time someone calls me 'Bann' or 'Ser'." Teagan gave her an exasperated look that was softened by his smile. "You know, I was actually thinking about all the stories I'd heard about the Grey Wardens. I hope you won't be offended if I say that you weren't quite what I was expecting when I pictured them."

"What were you expecting?"

The nobleman gave an undignified shrug. "I suppose that I thought that any female Warden would be more like women you tend to find in the King's Army. You know the type: six feet tall and capable of lifting me over their heads with one arm. It's not a terribly enlightened outlook, but I have always been a little too pigheaded for my own good."

Kallian watched the noble in confusion. She wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to achieve with this conversation, but she had an intense desire to be somewhere else. There wasn't any reasonable way to excuse herself, so Kallian just shifted uncomfortably and cast a look at the room's single exit.

Some of what she was feeling must have shown on her face because Bann Teagan gave her an apologetic look. "I hope I haven't offended you, it was meant as nothing more than a joke. Pay me no heed, I haven't been thinking straight since we retook the castle. Making bad jokes is just my way of not thinking about Isolde and Connor."

"I'm…sorry about that my lord. I was only doing what I thought was best." Kallian avoided his eyes as she spoke.

"You need not apologize for anything Warden." A shadow passed over his face. "I'm well aware that no good could have come from a situation like that. The only consolation I have is that Connor seems to be well on the way to recovery. I still don't know what I'm going to say to Eamon if he ever awakes, but you can be certain that no blame will be laid at your feet."

"The child will survive then?"

Teagan gave a small nod. "He grows stronger with every single day thanks to your mage's assistance. I fear that he is taking this very poorly, but then I can't exactly blame him. Losing his mother and having to live with all that he has done is proving to be too much for the lad."

"You will send him to the Circle won't you?"

The Bann flinched at her comment and sighed. "That's not really my decision to make. What's worse, I shudder to think how Eamon would react if he recovered only to find that his entire family had disappeared. Connor will remain here for the time being."

"He's dangerous." Kallian didn't bother to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Believe me; I'm well aware of how stupid I'm being. If it were not for Eamon, I would have already sent for the Templars." Teagan shoulders slumped and he shook his head wearily. "You want to hear something terrible? Part of me wishes you had killed him."

Kallian gazed at him levelly. Though she saw no need to voice it out loud, she privately felt that letting Connor live had been a mistake. Considering the amount of death he had caused, her opinion was that the child deserved to die. "It was the safest choice."

"Perhaps, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was just terrified of what he had become." Teagan looked at her. "I wanted him gone."

"You weren't the only one."

Teagan paused for a moment before speaking. "I recall that you reacted rather strongly to his influence. To be quite honest, I felt like screaming myself once Connor had let me go. I actually hated him for a brief moment when he was in my mind."

His words caused a sick feeling to rise up in Kallian's stomach. For the past couple of days, she had been doing her best to forget the terrifying moments she had spent under the demon's thrall. Losing control like that had shaken her far worse than she was willing to admit. Licking her suddenly dry lips, Kallian tried to concentrate on what the Bann was saying.

"What Connor did to us just made me feel so—"

…_**frightened and helpless….**_

Kallian staggered to one side as a blinding pain suddenly exploded behind her eyes. Gasping in shock, she brought both her hands up to clutch at the sides of her head. Through the red haze of pain that clouded her thoughts, she became aware of a loud buzzing noise that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Someone touched her arm. "Lady Kallian? Are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped opened and widened in panic.

_**...Red-haired human…**_

Kallian's throat locked up and she scrambled away from the human. Shaking her head in wordless denial, she was dimly aware of the fact that the buzzing had changed somehow. It was now becoming melodic, almost like some type of primitive music.

Her breath came out in labored gasps as she tried to understand what was happening to her. Much as it seemed like one of her panic attacks, this felt radically different from her usual episodes. On top of all of it, she suddenly felt very cold.

A woman's voice suddenly pierced through the loud buzzing. "Kallian? Oh dear, let's get you sitting down."

Warm arms wrapped around her shoulders in a loose embrace. Too overwhelmed to physically react to the contact, Kallian just made a small noise of protest as the new arrival steered her over towards a chair at the grand table. As the woman forcibly sat her down, Kallian hugged her arms around her chest in attempt to get warm.

"Take a deep breath and hold it for two seconds before releasing. Keep doing that until you start to calm down." A hand rubbed against her back in small circles in way that she found comforting. The woman made an approving sound when Kallian followed the directions she had been given. "Good, just like that. You're going to be fine Kallian."

For a moment, it didn't seem like the breathing exercise was working. Then, Kallian felt a wash of relief when she realized that her body was beginning to relax. The horrible buzzing sound decreased in volume until it died off completely. Though her head still throbbed, it was no longer the acute stabbing pain from earlier.

She became aware of Bann Teagan's voice. "—I don't know why this happened! We were just talking and she started shaking!"

"I doubt it was anything you've done. We've had a very trying couple of weeks; I'm certain Kallian is just feeling the stress." The woman next to Kallian spoke in a kind tone. "Just give her a moment and she'll tell you the same."

Kallian breathed out a sigh when she finally recognized the woman's voice. Relaxing into Wynne's hold, Kallian focused on her breathing until she felt more like her usual self. With a heavy sigh, she raised her head before gently pushing Wynne's arm off of her. "I think I'm ok."

"All the same, you should stay still for a moment."

Too worn out to argue, Kallian just gave a small nod and used hand to wipe away the sweat that was beading at her brow. Trying to ignore the way Bann Teagan was hovering a few feet from them, Kallian vigorously rubbed at her arms in an attempt to ward off the lingering chill.

"How long have you been having the panic attacks?" Wynne voice was little more than a soft whisper. "This is the second one I've seen from you in the last few days. I wasn't certain if it was just a reaction to Connor's magic, or something more serious."

Kallian opened her mouth to reply, but closed it with a sharp click when Teagan moved closer to listen in. Glancing up at the nobleman, Wynne gave Kallian a look of understanding before smiling up at the Bann. "My lord, would it be possible to have a glass of water sent in? It might help to steady the nerves."

"Of course, I should have thought of that." Bann Teagan straightened up and began moving towards the door. "I'll see if I can round up a servant."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Wynne turned back to Kallian. "I'm not trying to pry, but it may be important that I know this."

"I dunno, a few months or so. My first was just around the time I became a Grey Warden." Kallian raised one shoulder in a shrug and glanced behind her to make certain that the Bann had actually left.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Kallian just stared at her.

"Don't give me that look; I'm only trying to help." Wynne gave Kallian a kind smile to soften the tone of her words. "If you would like, I could teach you a few things that will help to ward off an attack. We could work on them after our next reading lesson."

Kallian's first impulse was to deny that she needed Wynne's help. To acknowledge that she had a problem would be akin to admitting a weakness. For a few moments, she considered snarling something unpleasant with the hopes of killing this conversation where it stood.

She ground the palm of her hand against her forehead in frustration. The problem with doing that was that she desperately needed the help that Wynne could offer. So, with a profound feeling of resignation, Kallian gave Wynne a small nod. "Thanks…that would be great."

"Of course dear, it's no trouble at all." Wynne seemed pleased with her response.

After a quick moment of deliberation, Kallian cleared her throat. "The only thing is; I'm not sure that was a panic attack. I've been having them for a while, and what just happened wasn't like the other ones I had. It was still really bad, just in a different way."

"I see," Wynne furrowed her brow. "In what way was it different?"

"It started with a really bad headache. I felt like my head was being pounded on by a golem or something. Next thing I know, I start hearing this weird buzzing music, and then my entire body goes cold. I still haven't really warmed up yet."

Wynne was outright frowning at this point. "That doesn't sound like anything I am familiar with. If you'd like, I can try to find some—"

The elder mage broke off when the doors of the hall opened wide to admit a gaggle of familiar figures. Alistair was leading the group and appeared to be in the middle of bickering with Morrigan. Behind him, Zevran, Oghren, and Sten followed a few steps behind. Glancing at the party, Wynne turned to Kallian and gave her an apologetic look before rising to her feet.

"We'll talk more about this later. Go sit by the fire if you're still feeling chilled."

Kallian gave a grunt of affirmation but kept her seat as the others approached. Returning the nod that Morrigan sent her way, Kallian watched as they all took seats around the massive table. A moment later, the Bann Teagan reentered the hall bearing a pitcher and some glasses. Placing them within Kallian's reach, the noble gave her a small smile before moving over to sit beside Alistair.

Alistair smiled as he greeted her. "Good, you're already here. I saw Leliana in the hallway and she said she'll be by in just a moment. We can start once she gets here."

"Sounds good," Kallian was pleased to note that her voice was steady when she addressed him.

He had barely finished speaking when the doors to the hall opened to admit Leliana into the room. Favoring the entire group with a cheerful smile, the bard strode over and took the seat next to Kallian. "I'm sorry if you all were waiting on my account."

"Not a problem, we just arrived ourselves." Alistair looked remarkably happy considering everything that had happened in the recent days. "Now that we are all here, I'd like to hear some opinions on what we do next. The way that I see it, we have a great deal to discuss."

Kallian shivered as another series of chills ran down her spine. Not really caring if anyone noticed, she reached down underneath the table and took one of Leliana's hands in a tight grip. Though she kept her own eyes locked on the table in front of her, Kallian could feel the weight of Leliana's gaze on her skin. After a moment, Leliana's thumb brushed against Kallian's knuckles in a tender caress.

The contact made her feel a little more grounded and she lifted her eyes to pay more attention to conversation at hand.

"'Tis merely a question of pursuing the path that grants the most benefit." Morrigan voice was tinged with a healthy dose of condescension. "We hold a treaty that compels the Dalish to take action in the event of Blight. Surely securing their support should be our priority."

Sten placed one massive hand on the surface of the table. "There are not many Dalish elves in Ferelden. Their support is useful, but it does not guarantee success. Ferelden is controlled by humans however much the dwarves would like to say otherwise. The wisest course of action is to ensure that the humans will stand united against the threat."

"I agree with you Sten. However, accomplishing that will be tremendously difficult without Arl Eamon. No one else here possesses the political standing that he does. Now that Loghain is acting as the Steward of Ferelden, he has the authority to have us arrested if we try to challenge his rule. We need Arl Eamon could act as a member of the Landsmeet so that he may demand that we be given a fair trial to convince the other nobleman of Loghain's treachery." Alistair sounded as though he had practiced this discussion prior to arriving.

Kallian frowned. "Why can't Bann Teagan act for the Arl?"

"That would be very problematic for a number of reasons." Bann Teagan looked uncomfortable as he spoke to her. "So long as Eamon is alive, I do not technically have the authority to dictate any political action for Redcliffe. What's more, Eamon has already named Connor as his successor. If he were to pass, Connor would be the Arl of Redcliffe. The only way I could inherit the title is if both Eamon and Connor were dead."

_One more reason we should have killed him._

Alistair was nodding in agreement. "Also, Eamon is both shrewd and persuasive. He would be a tremendous asset when it comes time to actually attempt to regain the country. So, I believe that it is in our best interest to find the means by which to cure him of his illness."

"That may be impossible." All eyes turned to Wynne as the mage shook her head sadly. "The poison that was used by the blood mage was enhanced by his magic. I've tried my best to cure him, but all my efforts have done is buy time. It is a progressive decline and I expect that the Arl will have passed away in less than two months time. The only way I can see him surviving is through a miracle of some sort."

Morrigan gave a scornful laugh. "You are speaking of these 'Sacred Ashes' that everyone keeps prattling on about? I would not have thought that one educated in magic would give credence to such a ridiculous notion. 'Tis nothing but a legend that has been propagated by those foolish enough to believe in their imaginary god."

"You do not know that, Morrigan." Leliana fixed the witch with a level gaze. "It requires just as much faith to deny the Maker as it does to accept Him. Andraste's remains have long been believed to exist within Ferelden's borders. Who are you to claim otherwise?"

"Someone who believes only in what she can see in front of her."

Leliana smirked at the other woman. "Funny you should say that; I was taught that those are the type of people who are most easily fooled. If you are so preoccupied with what is tangible, you never come to anticipate the inexplicable."

"Tch! A statement that is as pointless as it is—"

Morrigan's remark was cut off when Alistair pounded a fist against the table. "Enough, we have better things to do than attack one another. I respect both of your views on the matter, but I feel as though our options are limited in all of this. I will not waste our precious time by following a wild goose chase for something that may or may not exist. However, I also cannot deny that saving Eamon would be worth taking a very significant risk."

"So what would you have us do?" Sten spoke in a low rumble that gave away nothing of his thoughts.

"One of the knights who arrived yesterday spoke of a man in Denerim who has been researching the whereabouts of the Sacred Ashes for most of his life. His name is Brother Genitivi and it seems as though he is the foremost expert on the subject. What I propose is that we travel to Denerim and meet with this man. If he provides compelling evidence that suggests at a location of the Ashes, we will then attempt to recover them. If he does not convince us, we will begin constructing a plan to dethrone Loghain by some other means. No matter what we end up doing, we'll need to be in the capitol to do it."

There was a long pause following this statement. Surprisingly, it was Zevran who broke the silence. "May I point out something?"

"Of course, you're free to speak your mind." Alistair sounded only slightly reluctant as he said this.

"Well then, if all of this is intended to help us overthrow Loghain, why not simply kill him?" Zevran spread his arms emphatically. "It would be much easier to simply stab the man in his sleep would it not? I could almost certainly put an end to this problem in a single night."

"I'm with the elf on this one." Oghren scratched at the stubble on his chin. "No need for any of this Chantry mumbo-jumbo. Let's just put an axe in this Loghain and raise a mug in celebration."

Alistair let out a long breath. "Assassinating Loghain runs the risk of alienating the Landsmeet. Even if we did kill him, all we would accomplish was the murder of a man who is perceived to be a hero. Furthermore, it's more than likely that his daughter Anora would step up in the event of his death. She is a tremendously clever woman and Teagan tells me she has been effectively running the country ever since Loghain assumed leadership. No, when we confront Loghain it will have to be in front of everyone. He needs to be exposed for what he is if we are to gain the loyalty of the country."

Wynne tilted her head in thought. "What of the Dalish?"

"We will see if we can reach them along the way. Sten is right however, they are not the most crucial element in all of this."

Something occurred to Kallian. "Do we have the time to do this? I mean, does anyone have any idea of how long it will be until we're swimming in Darkspawn?"

Bann Teagan answered her. "That may be the one bit of good news we have. Loghain has resupplied the Southern garrisons and is making defense his top priority. The Tevinter fortresses will impede the Darkspawn for quite some time. Conservative estimates suggest that it will be at least three months before the Darkspawn will have amassed to the point where they can break through. Unfortunately, once they manage to bypass those fortresses, it will be a straight shot up to Denerim and the Northern Reaches. Loghain has already set about evacuating many of the interior provinces. Most of the civilians have already begun to make their way to the refugee camps up north. Those that have not are preparing to flee the country entirely."

Alistair looked at each of them in turn. "Does anyone else have a suggestion they wish to voice?"

Though Morrigan and Sten looked less than pleased with the purposed plan, both of them remained silent. Truth be told, Kallian was also a little leery of Alistair's idea. She didn't know too much about politics, but she also didn't know if they should go about chasing something out of a myth.

After a few moments of silence, Alistair inclined his head at the group. "Alright then, we will proceed with that course of action. A large number of Redcliffe's forces are expected to arrive within the next few days. I propose that we stay here for another three days before we make our leave. Teagan tells me the stores will be available to us by tomorrow evening. I suggest that you all rest and acquire whatever it is that you may need. This might be our last opportunity to do either for quite some time."

This apparently signaled the end of the meeting. The sound of chairs scrapping against stone filled the wide room as everyone pushed themselves up and onto their feet. Letting go of Leliana's hand, Kallian stood up and watched as Alistair pulled Teagan aside to talk. She considering going over to voice her opinion to Alistair in private, but thought better of it when she realized that it probably wouldn't matter one way or the other. Once Leliana had gotten out of her seat, the two of them walked across the hall and exited into the passage.

Leliana waited until they had moved into an uninhabited hallway before she turned to face Kallian. "Are you alright? You looked as though you had seen ghost."

"It was nothing, I'm just a little worn out." Kallian told the lie by reflex. "I haven't been sleeping all that well. Sorry about all of that."

"No need to apologize, I did not mind." Leliana was watching her in a way that made Kallian suspect that the bard didn't fully believe her. Not wanting to unload her problems on the other woman, Kallian plastered on a small grin.

"That little stunt back in my room wasn't funny you know."

Leliana actually giggled. "I think that is a matter of perspective. However, I did not mean to cause you any discomfort. Allow me to make it up to you tonight. Come by my room after supper and I'll prove to you that my 'bard thing' works just as well on pretty elven girls as it does on lonely Templars."

She then swooped in and stole a quick kiss that Kallian was too surprised to react to. Blushing furiously as she processed the meaning of the bard's words, Kallian uttered an inarticulate sound that made Leliana smile widely. Squeezing Kallian's upper arm with one hand, Leliana turned and began walking off in the direction of her room. For the second time that day, Kallian was left staring dumbly after her. This time though, she found herself wearing a goofy grin.

The smile died the moment she remembered what her plans were for the evening. Much as it pained her to think about it, she realized that Leliana was going to end up being rather disappointed when Kallian didn't show tonight. It couldn't be helped; she had made a promise and had no choice but to keep it.

Cursing the cosmos for its terrible sense of timing, Kallian made her way to her own room. As soon as she entered the large space, Kallian shed the lovely clothes Leliana had given her and put on her travel leathers. The worn clothing actually felt oddly comforting to her. It felt good to have a modicum of protection once again.

After a quick mental inventory, Kallian glanced out the window at the murky skyline. Even though it was only the middle of the afternoon, the sky was already beginning to darken thanks to the winter hours. Feeling anxious to be on her way, Kallian decided to risk leaving before she had the full cover of darkness.

She picked up her pack and slung it onto her shoulders before fastening her cloak around her neck. Though she slid an array of knives into the various hidden sheaths along her body, Kallian left the dwarven sword by its place by the bed's headboard. A weapon like that wouldn't do her much good against what was to come.

Once she had everything that she would need, Kallian made as if to leave. Pausing at the door, Kallian glanced over her shoulder and felt a vague feeling of disquiet. A big part of her wanted to leave a letter for Leliana that would explain everything. An even larger part of her wanted to call this entire thing off and spend a pleasant evening with the other woman.

Kallian spat out a frustrated curse and tried to remember when everything had gotten so dire. A few days prior, she had been making porridge and cooking up this elaborate farce with a smile on her face. Now, she was sneaking off to confront something straight of legend with absolute no expectation of survival. What was hardest though, was the thought that this might never get the chance to explain herself to Leliana.

But, Kallian could neither tell Leliana nor leave her a note. In point of fact, she couldn't tell anyone without running the risk of them trying to stop her; or worse yet, trying to come along. No, it would be best to simply walk out the door and focus on the task ahead. Pulling on her pack, she slipped out the door and stood in the middle of the hallway.

For a long time, she simply stared down the passage in the direction of Leliana's room. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed as though no harm would come of simply letting the bard know where she was going. It would keep Leliana from worrying and it would give Kallian a chance to say goodbye.

_Sentiment is weakness common to the fool and the idealist…_

Kallian grimaced as her mother's words sprang unbidden to her mind. It was a stark reminder of who she was and what she needed to do. Bringing Leliana in on her plan would serve to do nothing except cater to her emotions. The bard would only be placed at risk, and Kallian needed to be alone in order for any of this to work. Even leaving a note ran the risk of the others following in the some misguided attempt to stop her from proceeding with her plan.

So, with a heavy heart and a troubled mind, Kallian turned to walk in the direction leading away from the bard's room. She was going to have to make one final stop before she could leave Castle Redcliffe. Coming to a wooden door at the end of the hallway, she raised one hand and knocked sharply against the wood.

After a moment, it opened to reveal a rather surprised looking assassin.

"Warden? To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Kallian looked Zevran in the eye. "I need you."

"Ah, I was wondering how long it would be before you succumbed to my charms." Zevran gave her a lascivious grin as he leaned against the door frame. "To be quite honest, I had assumed you would have acted on your womanly lust before this."

"What? No…not like that you idiot. I just need to borrow a few things for a day or two."

Zevran gave her a long look that took in her travel clothes and the pack that was hanging off her shoulders. "Well, that's somewhat disappointing. All the same, I have a feeling that this is going to prove to be extremely amusing. Please, do come in."

Glancing down the hallway to make sure that no one had seen her, Kallian followed the assassin into his room and shut the door behind her.

…

xxXxx

* * *

Ok, so first a huge thank you to my awesome beta-reader Kaidian for helping me fix a few plot holes in this chapter. It would have been at least 17% shittier without that extra help.

To the anonymous reader who astutely noted that I never revealed who became the dwarven king, I promise to get around to that at some point or another. That, or I'll make it a running joke of some kind...it's really a toss up at this point.

Sorry about the incredible delay for this chapter, I was railroaded by both a massive workload and some personal stuff. The good news is: I'm halfway done with the next chapter so it should be out soon. I'd make that a promise, but everything I know about promises I learned from my father...and let's just say that I had a lot of lonely school plays when I was a kid :(


	21. These Hands

Chapter 21: These Hands

The Kocari Wilds

* * *

xxXxx

…

The snow crunched loudly beneath the horse's hooves as they moved through the silent wilderness.

Kallian knew the animal was tired. She had been riding him hard ever since they had left Redcliffe some ten hours prior. The only reason they had made it this far in such a small amount of time was that the horse had been bred to carry a human in full plate-armor. Supporting a female elf clad only in leather and cloth had to be relatively easy for the massive animal.

She pulled her cloak tighter while huddling into the warmth of its wide hood. It had snowed earlier in the evening, and the long night had been bitterly cold. The only consolation she had was that they had entered the wide expanse of the Korcari Wilds less than an hour ago. If her admittedly hazy memory of this place was accurate, the two of them weren't far from their destination.

A crackle in the surrounding brush made her jerk a hand towards the hilt of her knife. Kallian had found herself on edge ever since she had started feeling the faint prickle along her scalp that warned of the Darkspawn's proximity. While that was a reasonable cause for concern, she felt confident that the monsters were still many leagues away. If she could only barely sense the many thousands of them, then they surely wouldn't be able to sniff out a single Grey Warden.

At least….that was what she kept telling herself.

Kallian relaxed when the mysterious sound revealed itself to be nothing more than a small rodent scurrying around in his quest for food. Lowering her hand back to the reins of the horse, Kallian glanced up at the full moon and tried to orient herself. Having left the Imperial Highroad behind some time ago, she was mostly navigated by instinct at this point. Unfortunately, the marshy lowlands that made up the Korcari Wilds didn't have many distinctive landmarks to aid in her navigation.

Just as tendrils of doubt were beginning to rise up in her mind, Kallian caught a faint glimmer of light in the corner of her eye. Pulling back on the reins to slow the horse, Kallian peered out in the murky blackness with a thrill of nervous anticipation. For better or worse, it seemed as though she had arrived.

Her mount nickered softly as she steered him in the direction of the orange glow. Patting the side of the horse's neck, Kallian felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the distinctive profile of Flemeth's hut became clearer and clearer as they approached.

She brought the horse to a gentle stop about forty feet from the hut's front entrance. Dismounting in the least graceful manner possible, Kallian let out a sharp hiss of pain as her cramped muscles rebelled against the motion. It had been many years since she had last ridden a horse and she was the very definition of saddle-sore.

The unmistakable sound of a door creaking open made her turn around to face the hut. Planted in the middle of the open doorway, a thin and slightly hunched silhouette stood in stark contrast to the light that poured out from within. Kallian took a breath to steady herself before gathering the horse's reins and leading the animal in the direction of the house. She wasn't surprised that Flemeth was waiting for her in spite of the late hour. Somehow, she had known that the witch would be awake and aware.

"Well now, this is a surprise. I had not thought to see you again so soon, Warden." Flemeth paused and gave Kallian a shrewd look. "What's more, you come alone and in the cover of darkness. Is there something I should be aware of?"

Kallian bowed her head respectfully. "I'm sorry for showing up unexpected, but I have questions that I need to have answered. Unless I'm wrong, I think that you are the only one who will answer them truthfully. I didn't want to speak of these things with the others present."

"You have questions?" Flemeth voice was neutral as she studied Kallian's face with her head tilted to one side. "Then let us hope that I have answers. You can take your animal around the back. There is a shed behind the house that makes a perfectly good stable when there is need. I may even have some feed left over if you care to look."

"Thank you Flemeth. I'm grateful."

Flemeth uttered a dry laugh as she turned to go back into her hut. "Don't thank me yet child."

Silently telling herself to relax, Kallian took the horse around the side of the hut and found the shed Flemeth had spoken of. It was small and smelled strongly of dried herbs, but it was also surprisingly warm. After she had led the animal inside, Kallian removed the bit and brindle from its mouth. A quick look around the dark confines of the shed revealed a small barrel that was half-filled with some dried grain. Placing a generous portion in a nearby trough, she watched as the horse set to its impromptu meal. Before she left, Kallian made sure the animal had access to a water basin.

As she made her way back to the hut, Kallian curled and uncurled her fingers in a nervous tic. Though she managed to force her expression into a veneer of calm, her insides churned unpleasantly as she approached the door.

Once inside, she was greeted by a wave of warmth and light that felt wonderful after hours in the saddle. From her position by the room's fireplace, Flemeth glanced up from where she was stirring an iron pot and motioned towards a small table in the corner. "You can join me in a late dinner if you wish. Ever since Morrigan left, I've had a tendency to lose track of time. Sometimes, I'll start making dinner when really I should be attending to breakfast."

"I'd like that Flemeth, thank you." Kallian moved over to the table while removing her pack. Placing it by her chair, she dropped down into the wooden seat and glanced around the small hut.

Flemeth's house was more or less what one would expect from a swamp witch. Though cozy, the room was covered in a number of odd knickknacks and bushels of dried flowers. Other than the table and a small area rug, the only furniture in the room was a rickety-looking bookcase that bowed under the weight of the hefty tomes it supported. In addition to the main entrance, the room featured only one other door. Though it was closed, Kallian assumed it led to the hut's bedroom.

Her perusal was interrupted when Flemeth placed a steaming bowl of grayish stew in front of her. "If you want something to drink, I fear you will have to make do with water."

"Actually, I might have something a little better." Kallian reached down into her backpack and drew out the wine bottle she had stolen from the Arl's cellar. "My father always told me to bring wine whenever you ask someone for a favor."

"Ah yes, _'to appease the tongue and loosen it in equal measure'_. A rather old adage; I haven't heard it for some time now." Flemeth's lips curved upwards in to a faint smile. Raising one wrinkled hand, the witch motioned for Kallian to hand her the bottle. Flemeth inspected the label with a judicious eye. "Now I have to wonder, what type of questions are worth a gift of this quality?"

"They're worth a great deal to me. That's what matters isn't it?"

Flemeth gave her an odd look. "True enough, Warden."

Kallian took the wine back and set about opening it with a small corkscrew she had picked up from Redcliffe's kitchen. It was difficult to remove the cork at first, but she eventually levered it free from the bottle's neck. Nodding briefly in Flemeth's direction, Kallian poured a generous measure of the ruby liquid into the two clay goblets that rested on the table's surface. Conscious of the fact that Flemeth was watching her intently, Kallian lifted her goblet and took a long draught.

The wine tasted of rich plums tinged with a spicy undertone of cracked pepper. Setting her cup down, Kallian leaned back in her chair and relished in the warmth that the wine brought with it. After a moment, Flemeth lifted her own cup and took a delicate sip. "Before we begin with your questions, I hope you will indulge an old woman in some curiosity of her own. First, I would like to know how my daughter is faring on your journey."

"Morrigan's doing really well." Kallian kept a pleasant smile on her face as she spoke. "We would have been dead a long time ago if it hadn't been for her magic. It's hard to tell with her, but I think she's actually enjoying the constant danger and excitement."

Flemeth pursed her lips. "Wonderful, I had hoped she would find some interest in the outside world. This swamp has plenty to offer, but people have a tendency to lose sight of the larger picture the more time they spend within its confines. She needed to see what lay beyond the Wilds."

Kallian made a noise of polite agreement before lifting a spoonful of the stew to her lips. Surprisingly, the dish proved to be delicious in spite of its unappetizing appearance. Swallowing the mouthful she had taken, she gestured towards her bowl. "This tastes wonderful."

"I'm so glad you think so." Flemeth sounded like she was amused by Kallian's politeness. "After so many years of living in this place, one learns how to make the most out of what little one has. Now then, let me ask you how you've been faring. How are the preparations for the Blight coming along?"

"We've secured the support of both the Circle Tower and Orzammar. At the moment, we are preparing to seek the Urn of Sacred Ashes in order to restore Arl Eamon to health. Alistair believes that having the Arl's support is crucial to our success."

"Alistair?" Flemeth gave Kallian a blank look.

"He was the other Grey Warden who was with me at Ostagar

Flemeth bobbed her head in understanding. "Ah yes, the Ex-Templar…I had forgotten his name. That's the curse of being old I expect."

"Well, he seems to believe that the Ashes of Andraste are our only solution." Kallian took another swallow of the wine to wet her throat. "That's actually part of what I wanted to ask of you. Do you know if these ashes even exist? I feel as though we can hardly afford to waste time looking for them if they're nothing more than children's stories."

"That is not an easy question to answer with any certainty. I can tell you that a woman named Andraste once lived and died in this land many years ago. After her passing, her remnants were interred in Fereldan and celebrated by her followers. Whether they have survived the long centuries or possess any mystical quality is unknown to me."

Kallian furrowed her brow. "So, in others words, you know about as much as we do."

"Very discouraging isn't it? Most people seem to think that I have the answers to every question imaginable. If you want my advice on the matter, I'll simply say that far stranger things exist on this earth than magical ashes. Don't be quick to dismiss a thing simply because it has been painted into legend." Flemeth flashed Kallian a significant smile.

"I see your point."

"Do you?" Flemeth chuckled and took another sip of the wine. "That's wonderful; sometimes it's unclear even to me."

Kallian tried not to show the disappointment she felt at Flemeth's words. Ever since she had left Redcliffe, part of her had been hoping the witch would be able to either prove or disprove the existence of the Sacred Ashes. It appeared as though their party would simply have to take a risk and hope for the best.

She ate a few more spoonfuls of the stew before asking her next question. "Is there any way to undo the process of becoming a Grey Warden?"

"How do you mean?" Flemeth fixed Kallian with a piercing stare.

"If I wanted to become normal again, would it be possible?"

Flemeth shook her head after some consideration. "No, the Taint is not something to be assumed and then discarded like an old cloak. The moment that blood touched your lips, an extremely profound change was enacted in the very fiber of your being. That's part of what you sacrificed when you accepted the honor."

"Honor?" Kallian smiled bitterly. "Forgive me Flemeth, but I hardly consider this life to be an honor. The only reason I'm here today is because it sounded marginally better than being tortured to death for murdering a noble."

"Be that as it may, you will remain a Grey Warden until death finds you in one fashion or another. That is your fate: to kill the Darkspawn or live long enough to see yourself become like them."

Kallian frowned in confusion. "Like the Darkspawn? What are you talking about?"

"I'm speaking of your Calling, of course." Flemeth paused in the act of raising her cup and studied Kallian's face. For a brief moment, the old witch looked sincerely surprised. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No, I don't. Would you care to elaborate?"

"Hmph, it seems as though that Alistair has done you something of a disservice. He should have told you that a Grey Warden is not immune to the poison of the Taint. Your resistance to their blood is simply better than that of an ordinary person. Once enough time has passed, you too will begin to feel the pull of the Archdemon as the corruption spreads through your body. As I understand it, the Order refers to this eventuality as a Warden's 'Calling'."

Kallian felt numb. Falling back against her chair, she pinched at the bridge of her nose. "How…how long does that take?"

"I'm no expert, child." Flemeth spread her hands in an expressive gesture. "I've heard anecdotal rumors that suggest that the process takes anywhere from twenty to forty years depending on the individual. Most of the Wardens choose to enter the Deep Roads to die when the time comes. In doing so, they fight the Darkspawn until they are finally cut down themselves."

As Kallian silently mulled over this unpleasant revelation, she found herself surprised by her own lack of a reaction. On a purely academic level, she supposed that she should be feeling angry towards either Alistair or Duncan for keeping this from her.

Then again, she would have been dead a long time ago if it hadn't been for Duncan's intervention. Even if he had neglected to mention the fatal poisoning, the man had effectively given her a second chance at life. She supposed that she actually owed the Wardens for every single breath she took. What was more, a small part of her actually liked the idea of being some big hero for an entire country. When it came down to it, her life now had a purpose. Not too many elves could say the same.

So, with a grim smile, Kallian offered Flemeth a shrug. "At least I know that I have something to look forward when this is all over."

"Ah, what I wouldn't give to be young and brave again." Flemeth's tone had a faintly mocking quality about it. "But tell me Warden, what would you have done if I had offered you a means by which to escape your duty? Would you have fled this land and left the rest of us to the Darkspawn?"

"Nothing like that, I just wanted to know if I had the option to lead a normal life once this is all over. I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting monsters."

Flemeth snorted in derision. "Then I'm afraid you will be disappointed. If it is any consolation, I can assure you that normalcy is highly overrated."

Giving a dutiful chuckle, Kallian drained the last of her wine in a single gulp. She then picked up the bottle and refilled Flemeth's cup before pouring a hearty measure into her own. Unless she was mistaken, the swamp witch would need a drink for this next part. "There's something I should tell you."

"Oh? And what is that?"

Kallian ate another bite of the stew in order to buy a moment to collect her thoughts. Though she was fairly sure this was going to work out fine, she wanted to make sure she was absolutely composed before she tried her luck. Flemeth reminded her of nothing so much as a predator waiting to strike. Showing any sign of hesitancy or fear would likely prove to be disastrous. When she finally did speak, she made an effort to keep her tone as level as possible.

"Morrigan wants you dead."

Across from her, Flemeth went unnaturally still at her words. Raising her eyes from the bowl of soup, Kallian met the witch's gaze without hesitation. Though she was obviously trying to avoid reacting to Kallian's proclamation, Flemeth had clearly been taken off guard by her statement. An uneasy tension fell over the room as they stared at each other.

At long last, Flemeth spoke. "Interesting….why, pray tell, would she wish such a thing on her own mother?"

"I accidentally stumbled on your grimoire while we were liberating the Circle Tower." Kallian traced a finger around the rim of her wine glass in lazy circles. "I gave it to Morrigan after we had finished 'cause she likes books so much. Long story short: she found out how you've been staying alive all these years."

"Is that so?"

"Yep, and she's not terribly happy about it."

Flemeth picked up her wine glass and adopted a thoughtful expression. "My my, I can only imagine the things she must have been telling you. Well, go on then, tell me what horrors my loving daughter has accused me of committing."

"She says that you've have been stealing the bodies of your daughters in order to cheat death for centuries. What's more, she's afraid that you'll attempt to take her body the next time you meet her. Her theory is that sending her on this journey was your way of toughening her up before you adopted her form."

"That's quite a story. Not surprising really, Morrigan has always had a flair for the dramatic." Flemeth gave Kallian a measuring look. "The only question I have is what role you intend to play in all of this? What is it that you hope to gain by betraying my daughter's trust?"

"I'm not betraying Morrigan's trust. She asked me to kill you, and that's exactly what I plan on doing."

For a few beats, Flemeth just stared at Kallian with an incredulous look. Then, the witch burst out into a fit of shrill laughter. "What is this, a jest of some kind?"

Kallian shook her head. "No jest, I'm going to kill you tonight."

"Then you had best hope that saying it makes it so." Flemeth set down her cup and fixed Kallian with a cruel smile. "Do you really think that you can kill me? The legend of Flemeth does not end with my death at the whim of some impudent elf girl."

"Stranger thing have happened."

Flemeth placed both of her hands on the table and stood up. Spreading her arms wide, the fabled Witch of the Wilds glared down at Kallian. "Child, I have walked this land for longer than you can even imagine. I have borne witness to the rise and fall of entire kingdoms. I have killed warriors and innocents alike. I have watched heroes win their glory only to lose it to the ravages of time. I have spoken with saints and learned of forgotten magics so terrible that most men cannot even conceive of them. I have—"

"—just drank Magebane." Kallian finished Flemeth's sentence with a smile. "Quite a lot of it in fact."

The room was suddenly very quiet.

"Magebane?" Flemeth's voice was a mere hiss.

"I'd say we've both had about three times the usual dose." Kallian kept her tone casual to hide the fact that she was trembling with adrenaline. "'Course, the only thing I'm going to be feeling is some pronounced drowsiness because I mixed it with wine. You should be getting that as well…along with a completely inability to use magic for the next six hours."

A flurry of emotions blossomed and then wilted on the weathered landscape of Flemeth's face. Idly noting that the witch was looking a little pale, Kallian picked up her cup and swirled the dark liquid inside. True to his word, the poison that Zevran had given her neither smelled nor tasted like much of anything. Kallian downed the contents of her mug and set it aside.

"The tricky part was getting the poison into the wine without making the bottle look suspicious. That meant getting an entirely new cork to replace the one I'd have to remove. The problem is that I would then have a new cork jammed into a very old bottle. Want to know how I got around that?"

Flemeth slowly lowered herself back into her chair but didn't make a sound. Indifferent to the fact, Kallian continued on as if she had. "I poured the juice from a lemon onto the cork and heated it near a stove. A few minutes later, you have yourself an aged cork. Pretty amazing huh?"

"Very clever." Flemeth's voice was curiously flat. "I wonder if that clever mind of yours can be convinced to see the folly of your actions."

In response, Kallian reached into her backpack and pulled out the second thing she had borrowed from Zevran. Even though the crossbow was small enough to be fired with one hand, it still felt bulky as she leveled it at the woman across from her. She had taken the time to cock it earlier in the evening, and a squat bolt was fitted in the narrow firing groove.

"Is this where you try to convince me to abandon my plan? You really shouldn't bother."

Flemeth glanced down at the menacing weapon. "So, you think that trusting Morrigan is at all wise? That girl is a snake, and she'll turn on you at some point or another. I should know…that's exactly how I raised her to be."

"So what, I should trust you?"

"Why ever not?" Flemeth smiled. "I can provide you with far more assistance than my daughter can. I've always known the Grey Wardens to be practical when it comes to accepting aid from unlikely sources. Besides, if there is one thing I'm sure you can believe, it is that I want to see the Blight ended just as much as you do."

Kallian shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm inclined to believe that you'd also kill me out of spite."

"The same could be said about my daughter." Flemeth shook her head in irritation. "What's to stop her from killing you the second you stop being useful to her?"

"Morrigan's my friend."

Flemeth laughed. "She has no friends. You'd be a fool to trust her."

For a brief moment, Kallian felt a flicker of self-doubt. She suppressed it quickly, but it seemed as though Flemeth had seen something of it on her face. The witch watched her through narrowed eyes before breaking into a reassuring smile. "If you spare my life as I once saved yours, I promise to help you find a way to reverse the Taint. I do not know if it is possible, but I'm willing to—"

Her words were cut off when the bolt took her just below the heart.

Flemeth issued a startled gasp as her hands jerked up to grope at the shaft that protruded from her chest. Squirming about weakly, she pitched forward with a wet gurgle to land face-first in her bowl of stew. After a few spasmodic motions, her body went still.

…

…

Kallian slowly lowered the crossbow and let out the breath she had been holding. Setting the weapon down on the table, she stood up from the chair and warily circled around to where Flemeth was sitting. She didn't allow herself to relax until she had placed two fingers against the witch's neck to check for a pulse. As soon as she was certain that Flemeth was dead, Kallian lowered her guard and mentally prepared herself for the next part of her task.

Reaching into one of the pouches at her waist, Kallian drew out a glass vial that was protected by a hard leather case. She then unsheathed the knife at her back and swiftly drew the razor-sharp metal across the corpse's neck. Thick, red blood oozed out the wound in a sluggish trickle that Kallian caught with the wide neck of the vial. Once the delicate glass was mostly full, she pulled the vial away from Flemeth's neck and fixed its stopper back into place. As she wiped her blade clean, Kallian tried not to think about what Morrigan was planning on using her mother's blood for. Whatever it was, Kallian had a feeling that she was happier not knowing.

Walking back to the other side of the table, Kallian quickly stowed both the vial and Zevran's crossbow in her backpack's main pouch. Part of her was tempted to begin the return trip to Redcliffe immediately. Tarrying around in the house of a woman she had just murdered did not hold much appeal.

Unfortunately, the rational part of her mind knew that leaving tonight simply wasn't an option. Even if she was feeling perversely invigorated from what had just transpired, Kallian knew that her horse would need to rest before they began traveling again. Furthermore, it would be both warmer and far easier to navigate in the light of day.

She grimaced as she set the pack down and made her way back to Flemeth's body. Lifting the witch's right arm, Kallian pulled back the sleeve of the Flemeth's robe to reveal a slender bracelet of silver chain. Just as Morrigan had said, the chain had a small key threaded onto it. Kallian took hold of the key and broke the chain with a firm tug.

Taking her new acquisition in hand, Kallian released Flemeth's arm before making her way over to the bedroom door. It opened into a smallish room with two narrow beds and a single armoire. At the foot of one of the beds, a large chest inset with ornate designs stood in stark contrast with the room's otherwise sterile décor.

As it was the only thing in the house that seemed to have a lock, Kallian made an educated guess and moved to fit the key into the chest's opening. Smiling when the lock clicked open, Kallian pushed back the lid of the chest to reveal its contents. Despite the large size of the chest, the only thing it held was a leather-bound tome with some arcane character burned into its cover. Picking it up, Kallian turned it over a few times before shrugging indifferently.

If this was what Morrigan wanted, then this is what Morrigan would get.

Kallian set the book down on the floor and closed the chest. Satisfied that she had done all that had been asked of her, Kallian shut the door and climbed into the bed that smelled like Morrigan. Though the blankets were rough and the mattress uncomfortable, Kallian found that she was too worn out to care. Burying her face into the pillow, Kallian tried not to think about the corpse in the next room.

She'd have nightmares tonight; of that she was certain.

…

xxXxx

It took her nearly an entire day to get back to Redcliffe.

Part of that had to do with the fact that she had delayed her departure from Flemeth's hut until midmorning. Out of either guilt or some misplaced sense of propriety, Kallian had taken the time to build a pyre for Flemeth in the shed where she had kept her horse overnight. Using lamp oil and the rest of the firewood, Kallian had set fire to the small building in the hopes of giving Flemeth the semblance of a proper burial. She had left immediately after lighting it. There had been no sense in lingering around such an obvious beacon when the Darkspawn were so close.

After that, her progress on the road had been slowed out of consideration for her horse. Well aware that the animal was still tired from yesterday's brutal pace, Kallian had made an effort to go slower on the return journey. Several times, she had dismounted and walked to allow the horse a respite. As a result of all this, she arrived at the city a few hours shy of midnight.

When she drew close to the city's outer limits, Kallian didn't bother to avoid the advance sentries that were stationed on the road. Though they briefly detained her when she approached, both of the men on duty had been one of the soldiers that had been with her when they had freed the Castle from Connor's magic. Not only did they wave her through the checkpoint, but Kallian was also offered a stiff drink which she declined in as polite a manner as she could manage.

She accidentally woke the squire on duty when she reined her horse into the castle's stables. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, the young human glared at her as she dismounted and led the horse over. Kallian gave him an innocent shrug as she passed the reins over.

"I just borrowed him for a bit."

The squire drew himself up to fasten her with a haughty look. "My lord Teagan has ordered that you be taken into the Main Hall upon your arrival. I will be pleased to escort you."

"Yeah? And I'll be pleased to break your arm if you try." Kallian ignored the squire's indignant gasp as she began walking towards the castle. "I'm sure the Bann Teagan would rather get a good night's sleep than see me. Whatever he wants, it can wait 'til morning."

Leaving the man to tend to her "borrowed" horse, Kallian made her way around to the right side of the castle. Rather than enter through the main doors and risk running into someone she'd have to explain herself to, Kallian opted to take the same path that she had used to exit the castle yesterday. It required a considerable amount of climbing, but Kallian had never been adverse to a little breaking and entering.

Five minutes later, she scrambled through the narrow window that led into her room. Letting her pack fall to the floor, Kallian tugged off her cloak and unfastened her jacket with leaden hands. The only thing that kept her from collapsing into bed immediately was the raw pangs of hunger that pulled at her stomach. She hadn't eaten since last night and Flemeth's stew seemed like a lifetime ago.

After discarding her gloves on the bed spread, Kallian opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. While she had missed dinner five hours or so, she had a feeling the kitchen would have some bread and cold meats to offer. As Kallian had made a conscientious effort to get to know the cooks when they first arrived, she didn't imagine they'd give her too hard of a time about the late hours. Closing the bedroom door behind her, Kallian wondered if she could talk someone it making her something warm to eat.

"You're back."

Kallian practically jumped out of her skin. "Gah!"

Heart hammering like a drum, Kallian spun about in place to come face to face with Leliana. Dressed in simple leather pants and a long-sleeved tunic, the bard stood not three feet from Kallian with her arms crossed over her chest.

She wasn't smiling.

"L-Leliana?" Kallian placed a hand over her chest. "Maker's balls, you scared the living shit out of me!"

Leliana stalked closer so that they were practically touching. Her eyes were narrowed and her voice held a thick note of accusation. "Do you know what's worse than having someone you care about mysteriously disappear in the middle of the night?"

"Look I wanted to—"

"What's worse is spending the better part of two days looking for you without the slightest idea of whether or not something awful had happened." Leliana fixed Kallian with a quelling look. "Only to eventually learn the truth from an assassin of all people."

Kallian winced. "Zevran told you?"

"Eventually. It took him well over a day to mention it. He claimed that he delayed in telling us under your orders. After he did, Morrigan was kind enough to fill us in on the reasons behind your little trip. I'm still finding it hard to believe you'd do something so idiotic."

"I wanted to tell you what I was doing, but I couldn't ok?" Kallian tried, and failed to meet Leliana's gaze.

Leliana's mouth hardened into a thin line. Her ordinarily cheerful blue eyes were now clouded with anger. "Why not? Would that have made things too easy?"

"Of course not," Kallian felt a surge of frustration. "I just knew that I couldn't tell everyone where I was going. If I had, then Alistair and Wynne would have probably tried to stop me. My plan was risky enough without adding any other complications."

"Then why not just tell me? Am I another _complication_?" The word was drawn out into a low hiss.

Kallian shook her head vehemently. "No! I didn't mean it like that at all! Look, this plan had nothing to do with you!"

"Yes, I think I can believe that." Leliana scoffed and fixed Kallian with a dark look. "You obviously do not trust me enough to include me in something that is this important. I just want you to know, that I would have gladly followed you if you had asked."

"That was the point!" Kallian swept a hand over her forehead and clenched a fistful of her hair. "You would have come and then I'd have to worry about you."

A dangerous gleam appeared in Leliana's eye. "You think I cannot handle myself?"

"What? No I didn't mean….damn!" Kallian closed her eyes and took deep breath. Slowly opening them, she held her hands up in surrender. "Leliana, I'm absolute shit when it comes to this kind of thing. Let me just try to explain myself and then you can decide whether you hate me or not."

Leliana's eyebrows drew together as the bard stared down at her. After a few moments, she gave Kallian a grudging nod.

Kallian smiled gratefully and began. "The only reason I didn't want you to come along is because I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you. My plan was damn near suicidal, and I wasn't prepared to condemn anyone else because of my foolishness. I knew that if I said anything, you'd come along no matter how much I tried to get you stay."

"I could have come and waited for you while you dealt with Flemeth." Leliana's voice was quiet. "There was no reason I could not have simply come along to provide support."

"Maybe, but I was afraid Flemeth would somehow know you were there. She had this way about her that made you think she knew everything. I needed her to be completely at ease and I was terrified that she'd somehow know I hadn't come alone."

Leliana frowned slightly and said nothing. Though she hadn't eased out of her unhappy posture, Kallian could see that she was beginning to lose some of her anger. Hoping to press the small advantage, Kallian stepped a little closer and took Leliana's hands in her own.

"Look, there aren't many people I trust in this world. So when I say that I do trust you, I want you to know that it really means something." Kallian locked eyes with the human woman. "I know I was being stupid, but I thought it was better to leave without warning than to risk you getting hurt. You're…important to me."

To her surprise, a fleeting smile danced across Leliana's lips. "It sounds like you've been practicing."

"Yeah well, I had a lot of time to think on the road."

"No doubt," The smile dropped from Leliana's face and she gently tugged her hands free from Kallian's grip. "But don't think you are getting off easily just because of a few well-chosen words. The amount of trouble you caused was tremendous. I don't think I've ever seen Alistair so worried."

Kallian frowned. "Really? I didn't think that most of them would be all that bothered by it."

"Is it so hard to believe that other people care about what happens to you? Of course they were upset by it. We were planning on going after you in the morning."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I got here when I did."

Leliana nodded in a distracted manner as she studied Kallian's face. Sighing deeply, the bard shook her head and looked off to the side. "I felt like I had been deceived after Zevran told us that you had left by your own choosing. To be quite honest, that hurt me very deeply. I'd like to think that we are close enough to avoid keeping these kinds of secrets from each other."

The bard then gave her a sad look that made Kallian feel as though she had been punched in the gut. Anger and disappointment she could handle, but the naked hurt in Leliana's eyes was more than she could bear. It seemed to her that she had never seen anyone look lonelier than Leliana did right now.

Closing her eyes, Kallian spoke softly. "I wasn't trying to deceive you."

"Perhaps, but that does not change the fact that you did. I value what we have and want nothing more than for us to be honest with each other. For the longest time, my life consisted of little more than lying and being lied to. I don't want to live that way anymore."

Kallian felt a prickle of shame at Leliana's words. She was suddenly very conscious of all the things she hadn't told the other woman. "I…I understand. I'm sorry for hurting you; this won't happen again."

"That's all I ask."

A silence fell between them and Kallian wasn't sure how to break it. The anger seemed to have drained out of Leliana, and the bard looked as tired as Kallian felt. While she hadn't really been up to a conversation of this kind tonight, it was a relief to have this out of the way. For the better part of the horse ride back to Redcliffe, her stomach had been twisted into knots as she had gone over what she was going to say to the Orlesian spy. All things considered, it had turned out better than she had expected.

Favoring Kallian with a wan smile, Leliana tilted her head to one side. "Did you really kill Flemeth?'

"Yep"

"How?"

Kallian started to tell her, and then thought better of it. "That's a story for another time. It would take too long to tell it right now."

"Fair enough," Leliana gazed down at her with a soft expression. "It's enough just to know that you made it back safe and in one piece. One thing does bother me though: how is it that you know how to ride a horse? I would not have thought that to be a common skill amongst Alienage elves."

"Eh, one of my dad's brothers owned a small farm several miles outside of Denerim. When I was younger, we used to go there sometimes for the bigger celebrations and I'd get to ride some of the smaller horses. I wouldn't say that I'm good, but the horse I borrowed from the stables was smart enough to make up the difference."

Leliana laughed quietly. "I'd hope so. Given that the animal you chose was the Arl's favorite horse, I would be inclined to think it well-trained."

"That was Arl Eamon's horse?" Kallian rubbed at the back of her head. "I was not aware of that particular fact."

"Yes, the stable master was quite upset with you. He didn't stop screaming until Bann Teagan himself came down to settle things."

Kallian realized that she was going to have to make plenty of apologies in the next few days. Shrugging in resignation, Kallian flashed Leliana a crooked smile. "Well, I suppose I'll steer clear of the stables until we leave. Speaking of which, did I miss anything important while I was away?"

"Regarding the Blight and our plans? No, I daresay you did not." Leliana smirked at her. "Although, you did miss a rather important meeting in my bedchamber on the night you left. I cannot stress how dire a mistake that was."

Making a sheepish noise, Kallian scuffed the floor with the toe of her boot. "Yeah, I was kicking myself over that. Any chance we could reschedule?"

"Oh, I don't know. I feel as though you will have to make it up to me in some way before we can begin to even consider that." Leliana flashed Kallian a coy look and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. "Some things are not so easily forgiven I'm afraid."

"Yeah? Let's try to work on that."

Throwing caution to the wind, Kallian stood on the tips of her toes and planted a quick kiss on Leliana's lips. Rocking back onto her heels, Kallian tried not to let her uncertainty show as she watched for Leliana's reaction.

The bard's eyebrows slowly rose in amazement. "You have a great deal of nerve."

"Sorry, I just thought that—"

Kallian's words where cut off when Leliana's lips crashed against her own with a wild urgency. A moment later, she felt the air whoosh out of her lungs as her back slammed against the wall of the castle. Gasping in surprise, Kallian barely had time to react before Leliana's body crushed her against the rough stone.

For a terrible moment, Kallian felt like an animal caught in a trap.

Completely unbidden, old memories of the last time she had been pinned down by another person surfaced in her mind. Going stiff as her muscles rebelled against the sudden assault, Kallian felt a chilling panic tear its way up from her chest.

Leliana pulled back slightly and gave her a confused look. "Is everything alright?"

Swallowing around the knot in her throat, Kallian willed herself to relax. With no small amount of effort, she ignored the part of herself that urged her to struggle against the restraining presence that held her pressed against the wall. Instead, she tried to focus on the smell of Leliana's hair and the soft feeling of the other woman's body against her own.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Never been better."

Pushing down the turmoil of her thoughts, Kallian tilted her head upwards and kissed Leliana with an intensity born of desperation. She couldn't stop her past from encroaching upon her dreams, but she'd be damned before she allowed it to bleed into this part of her life. This was something she wanted to remain untarnished.

After a brief hesitation, Leliana responded to the kiss passionately. Most of their late night encounters before this had been sweet and gentle. Now though, Leliana was moving against her with a kind of hungry urgency that surprised Kallian. Dimly, she wondered if this was Leliana's way of venting some of whatever she had been feeling over the last few days.

Whatever the reason behind it, Kallian found she didn't mind this change of pace in the slightest.

Letting Leliana take the lead, Kallian turned her head in order to find a better angle before relaxing into the other woman's hold. Leliana made an approving sound and captured Kallian's lower lip between her teeth in a gentle bite. Groaning softly in response, Kallian let one of her hands slip underneath the hem of Leliana's tunic to trace along the bard's soft skin.

That small gesture seemed to signal a shift in their little dance. Reaching a hand down, Leliana caught hold of Kallian's hips and lifted her so that her legs were wrapped around Leliana's slim waist with most of her weight being supported by the wall. Unable to resist giggling at the suddenness of the motion, Kallian pulled away from the kiss with a smirk.

"Shame on you Sister…what would the Reverend Mother say if she saw us now?"

Leliana's grin exposed pearly-white teeth. "Most likely she would say a great deal about sin and penance. If that's your way of telling me to stop…?"

"Never said anything about that."

Kallian looped her arms around Leliana's neck and pulled the bard in for another kiss. Well aware that things were getting more heated than she had initially expected, Kallian found her thoughts straying towards the large bed that was waiting in her room. Though she and Leliana had been going beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship for a while now, they hadn't approached that degree of intimacy. With all that had happened recently, Kallian hadn't really had the time to think about when they'd move on to the next level.

Well, she'd _thought_ about it…just not in a constructive way.

Her train of thought crashed spectacularly when Leliana moved her hips against Kallian's in a very interesting way. Making a noise that was dangerously close to a whimper, Kallian decided to that it was better to live in the moment than to dwell on possibilities. Blindly groping for handle to her door, Kallian realized that—

"Oh please, do not feel compelled to stop on our account. 'Tis a most entertaining spectacle you are putting on."

Kallian and Leliana broke away from the kiss in startled unison. With a surge of dread, Kallian whipped her head to the right and found herself confronted with a very amused witch. At Morrigan's side, a fully-armored Alistair was staring at Kallian and Leliana with his hands at his sides.

He looked as though he were in the midst of an aneurism.

For a few endless seconds, the four of them cheerfully engaged in the most awkward silence Kallian had ever experienced. Flushing furiously, Kallian slowly unhooked her legs from around Leliana's waist so that she could stand on her two feet. With as much dignity as she could muster, Kallian stepped away from Leliana and gave Morrigan a small wave.

"Hey."

"Good evening," Morrigan seemed unusually happy considering the situation. Her yellow eyes were rapidly darting between Leliana and Kallian. "Alistair and I were just talking about you when we heard voices down the hall. I am so pleased to see that you are well."

Kallian bobbed her head. "Err…yeah. I'm just a little tired is all."

"Yes, I daresay you seem very much worn out." Morrigan's eyes danced with ill-concealed mirth as she glanced over at Leliana. "Why else would you have to lean so heavily on the good Sister?"

Alistair made a strangled sound.

"Eh-heh-heh…." Kallian rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah….."

After another pregnant pause, Leliana cleared her throat. In spite of the face that she was trying to keep her composure, Kallian could see a faint blush rising up in her bard's cheeks. "It's getting rather late is it not? I think I may turn in for the evening."

"A splendid idea, I'm sure we are all in need of rest." Morrigan smile turned almost predatory as she spoke.

"Yes…I'm sure." Leliana gave them all a small smile as she slowly began backing away. "Good night everyone, I will see you in the morning. It's good to have you back Kallian."

Ignoring Morrigan's scoff, Kallian smiled back at the fleeing bard. "Thanks, good night."

With a lingering glance in Kallian's direction, Leliana turned around and hurried off in the direction of her room. Considering how awkward this all was, Kallian didn't exactly blame her for excusing herself from the conversation. Turning back to Morrigan and Alistair, Kallian took a quick breath.

"Stay here for a second; I have to grab my pack."

Not waiting for a response, Kallian darted into her room and plucked the heavy backpack off of the floor. Returning to the hallway, Kallian set it at her feet and unfastened the flap that covered the main compartment. Glad that the task allowed her to avoid their eyes, Kallian drew out the grimoire and the vile of Flemeth's blood.

She passed them over to Morrigan with no small amount of relief. Both the book and the blood had given her the creepy-crawlies. "Here, I think this is everything you wanted."

Morrigan didn't even bother to respond as she jerked both items out of Kallian's hands. Slipping the grimoire into a bag at her side, the witch immediately began unfastening the leather case that protected the glass vile. Once she had worked the vial free, Morrigan held it up to the torchlight and began to mutter in the odd language of magic.

At first, nothing happened, but then the vial responded to Morrigan's spell. As Morrigan spoke, the vial began to glow with a thin aura of silvery light. Kallian watched in a mixture of trepidation and interest as the glow began to grow steadily brighter. Then, all at once, the light winked out with so much as a sound.

Morrigan sighed deeply and favored Kallian with a genuine smile. "'Tis done then, she is dead. Words cannot convey the depths of my gratitude. 'Twould not be an exaggeration to say that you have more than likely saved my life. I am beholden to you."

"Nah, you saved my life back at Ostagar. Let's just consider us even and leave it at that."

"I…thank you. This was a great kindness." Morrigan seemed slightly troubled as she said this. Once again, Kallian was forcibly struck by the contradiction that the witch presented. As smart and as capable as she was, Morrigan was still like a child who had never learned to play with others.

Kallian smiled in an effort to put her at ease. "Don't worry about it. Enjoy your book."

"Yes, I shall at that." Morrigan nodded and placed a hand at the bag at her side. Tossing Kallian another sly smile, she then began walking in the direction of her own chambers. "Enjoy your bard."

"Hilarious."

Morrigan laughed to herself before disappearing down the long hallway. Kallian stared after her for a moment before turning to face Alistair. Though he looked as though he had gotten his brain back into working order, Alistair was still looking a little shell-shocked. At her expectant look, he seemed to shake himself before speaking.

"Erm…Hello there. Glad to see you're not dead and all." He was having some difficulty meeting her eyes. "I was really worried when Morrigan said you were going to kiss Flemeth...err _kill_ Flemeth."

Kallian gamely suppressed a smile. "Sorry about that, I'll try to explain everything tomorrow."

"Yes…yes, that will be good. I have questions….so many questions." Alistair coughed awkwardly and smiled in that endearing way of his. "Right, well there is important Warden Stuff that requires my attention in the opposite direction. So I'm going to go…pay attention to it now."

"Ok, see you tomorrow."

Alistair mumbled something unintelligible and practically fled down the corridor. After following his progress with a raised eyebrow, Kallian leaned back until her head was resting against the wall. With a sigh of disbelief, she buried her face in her hands and sagged against the stone. As hard as she tried, Kallian was having a hard time imagining a way in which that could have been more embarrassing. She supposed that it was just as well. The others would have found out eventually.

Smiling in spite of herself, Kallian pushed off the wall and began making her way down to the kitchens. She'd worry about all the important stuff in the morning. For right now, all she wanted was a full stomach and a soft bed to sleep in.

So long as she got both of those, life was good.

...

xxXxx

* * *

Alright, super big thanks to my awesome beta-reader Kaidian who provided wonderful insight on some of the interaction between Kallian and Leliana.

Thanks a million to everyone who took the time to read and review. I really appreciate the extra effort and I do my absolute best to respond whenever possible. On that note, I would be happy as a pig in shit if anyone would care to tell me how this chapter worked out for them.

I'll be trying to get the next chapter out in a respectable amount of time, but my next two weeks are filled with finals and essays. On the plus side, after those are over I'll have a good four months of off time to finish this fic up.

Cheers and please considering leaving a review!


	22. Ramble On

A/N: This chapter is like, 90% porn. I just went crazy with the amount of nudity in this chapter. It's an affront to God himself.

Chapter 22: Ramble On

Some Shitty Corner of Ferelden

* * *

xxXxx

…

"Have I mentioned recently that I believe this to be a fool's errand?"

Alistair sighed dramatically and cast a tired glance at the witch at his side. Though the midmorning sun was bright and radiant above them, Morrigan was doing her best to darken his otherwise wonderful mood. "You may have mentioned it once or twice. I might even go so far as to say that is literally_ all_ you've talked about for the past few days."

That was only the smallest of exaggerations. Morrigan had been unceasingly vocal in her belief that pursuing the Sacred Ashes was the wrong course of action. While he would readily admit that many of her points were valid, Alistair didn't really need to hear them constantly. Unfortunately, Morrigan appeared to be convinced that the only cure for a dead horse was to flog the Maker-loving hell out of it.

"If I repeat myself, 'tis only because I fear my words fall on deaf ears. Surely any man with a grain of common sense would realize that 'twould be best if we pursue only that which is assured. As I understand it, time is still of the essence."

"Mmmhmm…say, isn't it lovely out today?"

Alistair took in a deep breath of fresh air and sighed in pleasure. After a few weeks of snowstorms and cloudy skies, the crystal-clear morning was a fantastic change of pace. Sure, it was still plenty cold, but the glittering snow seemed far more welcoming in the sunlight. Weather like this always reminded him of the happy winters he had experienced in Redcliffe prior to being sent to the Chantry. It was hard to dwell on the looming threat of the Darkspawn when the world looked so remarkably cheerful.

"Yes, very pretty," Morrigan made an impatient sound. "Are you even pretending to listen?"

Alistair gave her the broadest grin he could manage. "Nope"

"Must you be so ceaselessly infuriating?" Morrigan's yellow eyes flared up with annoyance. "I am trying to hold a serious conversation."

"You seem to have a tendency to bring it out in me." Alistair looked over his shoulder to check up on Wynne. The elderly mage had been lagging behind the last few days, and he was getting worried that the pace was taking its toll on her. At the moment, she didn't look all that tired as she spoke with Zevran some twenty feet behind Alistair and Morrigan. In fact, it actually looked like she was blushing at something the assassin had said. "Look Morrigan, what else is there to say that hasn't already been said? We've had this conversation a hundred times and neither one of us has ever given ground."

Morrigan sniffed. "You act as though this were not important enough to warrant discussion. All of our lives may very well depend on what we do in the coming weeks."

"Fine, but can we discuss it tonight at camp? It's too nice out right now to be discussing the end of the world." Alistair gave her a more genuine smile and swept a hand around in emphasis. "Why don't you just take a few moments and enjoy life for a change?"

"My life has plenty of enjoyment. I am simply not operating on the basis that ignorance is bliss."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Ouch, you _really _got me that time. Now all of my manly feelings are hurt."

Morrigan turned up her nose and increased her pace so that she was walking ahead of him. Shrugging indifferently, Alistair looked past the witch to where Sten was plowing forward like an armored bear. The Qunari was in the process of studiously ignoring Oghren as the dwarf spun a fanciful tale about how he had once saved three elven maids from a rampaging Bronto.

Smirking to himself, Alistair felt a faint glow of satisfaction as he thought about how the group was beginning to grow comfortable around one another. Where once they had been little more than a collection of strangers, they were now starting to become a cohesive group. That type of camaraderie would be crucial if they wanted to start working as a cohesive unit.

A flash of movement made him look up in time to see Kallian appear from the western tree line. At her side, Kallian's massive dog was trotting along happily with a dead rabbit between his powerful jaws. Dropping the carcass at the sight of them, Boss bounded forward with a chorus of gleeful barks. Alistair smiled and got down one knee as the animal made a beeline towards him. Even though he braced himself in preparation, he nearly fell over when 150 pounds of dog slammed into him at a gallop.

Wrestling playfully with the animal, Alistair dodged Boss's attempts to lick his face and stood up when Kallian drew close with the discarded rabbit in hand. He nodded at her in greeting. "So, anything we should be worried about?"

"Hard to say, but you were right about that smoke. There was a campsite about a mile back."

Alistair nodded thoughtfully and resumed walking at a slower pace to accommodate Kallian's shorter stride. He had sent her out after only an hour on the trail to check on the source of a few wisps of smoke that Sten had spotted over the treetops. As the patch of road they were on was more or less deserted, he had been curious to see if anyone else was out here with them. After the ambush Zevran and his former cronies had sprung, Alistair was more inclined to be cautious while on the Imperial Highway.

"Is that right? Was there anything suspicious about it?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, I'm not an expert at this sort of thing. I can tell you that there were three fire pits and that the coals were still hot. From what I could see, all the tracks in the snow were leading north and they might have a wagon with them."

"A wagon? That's probably just a few straggling refugees heading up to Denerim." Alistair stroked his chin in what he hoped was a leader-like fashion. "Thanks again for doing that. Sorry it turned out to be nothing."

"No trouble."

With the barest of nods, the elf strode past him with the rabbit dangling loosely in one hand. Though she paused to speak with Morrigan, Alistair had a good feeling that Kallian would soon be making her way to the front of the group to join up with Leliana. Ever since that night in Redcliffe, the two of them had been hanging around each other more often than not.

Alistair wasn't going to lie and say that finding out about the two of them hadn't been a shock. After all the craziness that had happened with the Arl and his family, Alistair really had not been prepared to stumble headlong into one of his teenage fantasies. There were admittedly far worse things he could have discovered by accident, but it had still taken him a few days before he could manage to look either of them in the eyes without blushing.

That aside, Alistair had decided that their relationship would be a beneficial thing for both women. Kallian could certainly use a little happiness and Alistair was of the opinion that Leliana could use the company as well. It was hard to tell sometimes, but he had seen the bard look terribly sad when she thought that no one was watching. Part of him had dismissed these rare moments as lingering regret over leaving the Chantry, but he had always held a nagging doubt as to whether or not it was something more.

Either way, he hoped that the two of them would prove good for one another.

Feeling unaccountably uplifted at the thought, Alistair turned his attention to where Kallian's dog was busy diving into the snow banks. The animal barked joyfully and shook himself free of the fine powder before prancing over to lope alongside Morrigan. Truth be told, Alistair envied the dog for his carefree manner. Most of these days, Alistair spent every waking moment feeling like he was going to snap under the weight of his duty. What he wouldn't give for few minutes of unrestrained joy.

The thought had scarcely left his mind when the attack began.

Up ahead, Sten lurched to one side and grunted in pain when an arrow slammed into his shoulder. A moment later, a flurry of similar shafts swept down around them in a rain of lethal barbs. Taken off guard, it took Alistair a second to react.

"Ambush! Everyone get ready!"

Hefting his shield off of his back with one hand, Alistair raised it to protect his face as he tried to pinpoint the locations of their assailants. For a few panicked seconds, he couldn't see anything aside from the glimmering expanse of the surrounding landscape. Then, he caught sight of movement on a hill two-hundred yards to the west. Gently sloped and populated with only a few young trees, the hill had nonetheless provided the perfect cover for an ambush. Even as the thought past through his mind, Alistair could make out the silhouettes of people moving along the top of the slope.

Kallian noticed at the same time he did. "They're to our right! On the hill!"

More arrows answered her cry and Alistair started when one of them slammed into the thick wood of his shield. In his peripheral vision, he noticed that Zevran was leading Wynne into a small gathering of trees that lined the right side of the road. Feeling that the assassin had the right idea, Alistair pointed in the direction of the Zevran was heading.

"Get off the road, find some cover!"

As one, the group began to moving towards the relative safety of the trees as quickly as the snow would allow. Ahead of him, Morrigan tripped over something and fell front first. Alistair changed course in midstride and rushed over to where the witch was trying to get up. Well aware of just how perfect a target the two of them were making, he wasted no time in taking hold of her arm and yanking her to her feet. To his surprise, Morrigan actually resisted his attempts to tug her towards the tree line.

"I dropped my staff; we will have need of it!"

"It's not going to do you any good if—GET DOWN!"

Alistair threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her down into a tight crouch before tilting his shield to cover their vulnerable heads and necks. A bare instant later, another volley of arrows rained down around them to thud against his armor and shield. Trying to cover as much of Morrigan as he could with his body, Alistair yelped in surprise when one of the missiles managed to pierce the through the metal of his greave.

Ignoring the hot pain that radiated from the wound, Alistair pulled Morrigan close and half-ran, half-stumbled the last few yards that separated them from safety. Alistair released Morrigan once they had reached safety and took shelter behind a nearby tree. From what he could tell, the two of them were the last ones to make it into cover. Everyone else was already standing behind the protection of one of the large conifers that made up the small grove.

Alistair took the time to examine the arrow that was jutting out of his shin. Thankfully, it was not nearly as bad as he had initially feared. The greave had borne the brunt of the assault, and it seemed as though he had suffered nothing more than a minor flesh wound. He breathed out a long sigh and snapped off the shaft of the arrow so that it would not impede his movement in what was to come. Satisfied that further treatment could wait, he straightened up and tried to get a lay of the land.

Kallian was pressed up against a tree a few feet away from him. Glancing around the side of the trunk, the elf quickly retreated when a shaft thumped into the bark near her head. She let out a hiss and turned to look at him. "I count seven archers on the hill and at least a dozen swordsmen moving towards us. They've got us trapped in this copse."

"I also counted seven archers." Sten yanked the arrow out of his shoulder without a second thought. Tossing the bloody quarrel to one side, the qunari lifted a hand to unsheathe his gigantic sword. "However, I believe you are incorrect _Kadan. _There were exactly eighteen of the true warriors."

Humming softly underneath her breath, Leliana stepped around her tree and fired off an arrow of her own in a single smooth motion. A moment later, there was a distant scream when the arrow found its mark. As she stepped back into cover, Leliana slid another shaft from her quiver and favored them with a beatific smile.

"Six archers."

"Either way, we're outnumbered." Alistair hazarded a quick glance around the side of the tree he was pressed up against. "It looks like the warriors aren't ready to charge in here just yet. If I were them, I'd try to surround the copse and get us from all sides. We really can't let that happen."

Oghren snorted loudly. Both he and the dog were crouched down behind a small boulder. "No shit. But unless Red can rub off a few more of those archers, I'd say there ain't much we can do about it from where we're standing. We go out into the open and we might as well present are asses for target practice."

"Not quite how I would have put it, but I agree." Alistair glanced over to where Morrigan was hiding nearby. Though the witch was uninjured, she was watching him with an odd expression on her face. "Is there anything you can do to disrupt them? So long as the archers are occupied, I feel like we could handle the swordsmen."

Morrigan shook her head. "Without my staff, such a thing would be difficult. Complex magics require considerable focus and the range is too great to work unassisted. The most I can do is provide aid once the enemy draws close."

"I might be able to help in that regard." Wynne's voice drifted out from behind a tree to Alistair's left. "While I am no battle mage, there are a few tricks up these sleeves."

"Good, that's going to be crucial." Alistair spoke loudly to ensure that everyone could hear him. "The rest of us are going to have to strike hard as soon as Wynne works her magic. I want Oghren and Sten moving with me at the front, Kallian and Zevran will circle around to flank, and Leliana and Morrigan can provide support from the rear."

Zevran cleared his throat. "Not to rush our strategy meeting, but they're starting to spread out."

Cursing in frustration, Alistair peeked around his tree and saw that Zevran was correct. Though they were still the better part of two-hundred yards away from their position, their attackers had begun to advance towards them in a wide semi-circle. If they reached the trees in that formation, Alistair and the others would end up outnumbered _and _out-positioned.

"Wynne, do whatever it is you're going to do. We're going to move out as soon as your spell goes active."

Though he couldn't see Wynne from his position, Alistair soon heard her voice rise up in a droning chant. Drawing his sword from the sheath at his belt, Alistair flexed his hand around the leather grip and stomped his feet to ward off some of his jitters. Waiting to charge had always made him antsy and now was not the exception.

Wynne's chant came to an abrupt end and Alistair nearly lost his footing as the ground suddenly lurched beneath him. Surprised exclamations from all around him revealed that the others were experiencing something similar. After he had righted himself against the tree, Alistair looked up to see something amazing.

The earth was boiling.

Up on the hill, the archers were being tossed about like children's toys as the snow beneath them bucked and heaved with great waves of motion. Even more incredible, the furious turmoil appeared to be confined to a relatively small radius. Alistair wasn't sure what Wynne had done, but she had certainly produced results.

Shaking off his surprise, Alistair hefted his weapons and rushed out from behind his cover. "Now! For the Grey Wardens!"

Alistair's heroic charge went a lot slower than he would have liked. The weight of his heavy metal armor caused him to sink deeply into the snow with every step. On top of that, he had a disheartening fear that the others might leave him to charge the enemy alone.

Thankfully, that worry was swiftly abated when Sten's towering bulk appeared at his side. After quickly checking over his shoulder to ensure that Oghren was also on his way, Alistair turned his attention to the dozen warriors ahead of them. Wynne's spell may have surprised their ambushers, but the swordsmen would soon be regrouped.

Alistair slowed down to a trot so that Oghren could draw level with the two of them. On his left, Zevran and Kallian were circling around in a wide arc in order to flank the warriors. The two elves were loping across the packed snow with the light-footed ease that was particular to their kind. Whereas everyone else was impeded by the calve-deep snow, their feet barely seemed to sink into the fine powder as they ran. That extra mobility would be a significant advantage in this fight.

Sten and Oghren took up a position on either side of him as they drew close enough to engage. The three of them were still grossly outnumbered, but he saw that a handful of the enemy had broken off to deal with the two elves. That was a good thing. It would be significantly harder to deal with all eighteen at once.

Alistair wanted to check up on Morrigan and Wynne, but he was forced to abandon the impulse when the first of their attackers charge forward.

Bearded and wearing a long coat of mail, the man came at the three of them with a two-headed axe held at the ready. Sten stepped in front of Alistair and deflected the man's first swing with an efficient movement of his blade. Pushing the man back with his shoulder, the giant Qunari brought his sword around in a brutal chop. Though the man managed to bring up his guard in time to avoid being cut in two, the force of Sten's blow nearly sent him to his knees.

Leaving the giant to deal with his opponent, Alistair stepped to the right just in time to intercept a lanky boy who couldn't have been older than seventeen summers. The boy was wielding an oddly curved sword that looked as though it might have been a farming implement that had been crudely repurposed. He wore no armor and his eyes were wide with terror as he swung his paltry weapon at Alistair's head.

Raising his shield up, Alistair turned the blow to the side before slashing downwards with his own sword. His blade cut deeply into the back of his opponent's leg to send the boy falling to one knee. Without missing a beat, Alistair stepped close to his downed opponent placed the edge of his blade against the boy's throat. Grimacing at the boy's piteous scream, Alistair jerked his blade to the side so that the razor edge bit cleanly into his enemy's neck.

Blood splattered against his armor and Alistair was quick to step away from the limp corpse. After repositioning his feet to insure that he wouldn't become imbalanced, Alistair turned to meet a swarthy man wielding a brace of long daggers. Far cannier than the boy before him, this man tried to draw Alistair into overextending himself with a series of feints and lunges.

Ignoring the darting movements of the man's daggers, Alistair kept his shield in front of him as he slowly tracked the man's movements. His patience was rewarded when the ambusher stumbled slightly in the deep snow and presented a golden opportunity. Pushing of his back foot, Alistair rammed his shield forward like a battering ram and bowled the man over with ease. It was a textbook maneuver, and the fight would have ended right there had he not tripped over his downed opponent.

His sword was jarred loose from his hand as he stumbled forward and nearly fell flat on his face. Righting himself as quickly as possible, Alistair raised his shield just before a mace caved his skull in. Numbing vibrations raced up his arm from the impact and Alistair almost lost his footing once again.

This new opponent was covered in ugly slabs of muscle that could only come from years of hard labor. Lifting the blunt weapon over his head, the man aimed another crushing blow at Alistair's temple. This time, the wood of Alistair's shield cracked as the club battered against it.

In desperation, Alistair made a fist and swung it towards the man's face while he was still recovering from his attack. A terrible crunching noise cut through the air as the man's teeth shattered against the unyielding metal of Alistair's gauntlet. Moaning stupidly, his opponent collapsed backwards in agony.

Alistair didn't spare him a second glance as he was already turning around to face the knife fighter he had knocked down a few seconds prior. Not only had the man regained his feet, but he had somehow managed to hold onto both of his weapons through it all.

With only his battered shield at his disposal, Alistair cast about frantically for his mislaid sword. Abandoning his efforts when the knife fighter leapt forward with a cry, Alistair widened his stance and angled his shield to deflect the oncoming attack.

As it turned out, he needn't have bothered.

The knife fighter had only taken a few steps when Sten chose to intervene. Moving with a speed that belied his massive bulk, the Qunari blindsided the smaller human with a shoulder charge that sent the man flying. Readying his blade, the giant advanced forward and drove his sword into the fallen man's chest with professional efficiency.

Alistair caught sight of his own blade a moment later. Plucking the weapon out of the snow, he shook the powder off of the blade and cast a quick glance around the battlefield.

Oghren was closest to where he and Sten were standing. The dwarf was making quite a scene as he was single-handily holding off four of the enemy warriors with great scything swings of his war hammer. A cut had opened up on Oghren's forehead and his face was a nightmarish mask of blood as he howled obscenities at the ambushers.

Farther to the left, Alistair saw that Zevran and Kallian were working together to great effect. Several corpses lay in the wake of the two elves, and they were currently harassing a large human wielding a great sword. Darting in and out like wolves attacking a bull, they were keeping their prey in constant motion as the man tried to ward off their collective efforts. As soon the doomed man grew exhausted from swinging ten pounds of steel around, the two of them were going to tear him to pieces.

So far, it seemed as though none of the archers on the hill had been given the opportunity to recover. Though he could not see her amongst the trees of the grove, Alistair knew that Leliana was still firing due to the arrows that periodically sailed from her position. If she and Wynne could keep the enemy bowmen at bay for a little longer, Alistair hoped they could take the hill without too much trouble.

Knowing that Oghren couldn't keep that up forever, Alistair grabbed hold of Sten's arm and pointed in the direction of the dwarf. "We have to help Oghren; he's going to be overwhelmed!"

Then the bear arrived.

Far larger than any specimen found in nature, the massive wall of fur and claws that rose up behind Oghren was simply terrifying. Issuing a roar that made Alistair wince, the massive animal bounded forward and scattered the men attacking the dwarf with a few swipes of its huge paws.

It seems as though Morrigan had found a way to contribute to the battle.

Stunned in spite of himself, Alistair watched as Bear-Morrigan tore off a man's head with a single blow. Deciding that Oghren had all the support he would ever need, Alistair motioned for Sten to move in the direction of the hill. "Let's move to take out the archers. The others can handle the stragglers."

Sten nodded wordlessly and began making for the hill with purposeful strides. Falling in behind him, Alistair craned his head about to make sure no one was in any major trouble. It was a slightly chaotic scene, but it seemed to him that the battle down below had swung in their favor.

No, the serious threat was now the archers on top of the hill. Alistair wasn't sure how long Wynne's spell had lasted, but the earth was no longer moving. He could only hope that Leliana had been able to keep them somewhat suppressed.

The man he had punched in the mouth tried to prop himself up as Alistair and Sten started to ascend the hill. Even though the man was hardly a threat, Sten deviated from his course just long enough to lop the man's head off before he could rise any further.

Sten picked up the pace when an arrow whistled down from the hilltop and very nearly hit Zevran. Cursing under his breath, Alistair charged after Sten with a burst of speed. Cresting the top of the ridge, Alistair almost ran headlong into an archer preparing to fire.

His sword bit into the man's collarbone with a wet crunch. Screaming, the archer loosed his arrow out of reflex and sent the shaft skittering harmlessly off to the right. Yanking his sword free, Alistair stepped over the dying archer with his mouth set into a hard line.

Only four men remained on top of the hill. Three of them were archers, and they quickly readied secondary weapons as Sten closed in his massive sword at the ready. Feeling that the giant would hardly need his help, Alistair focused his attentions on the last man. Bearing a sword and a shield, the man was protected by a functional suit of grey armor complete with a half-helm. The man gave Alistair a nod of acknowledgement before bringing his shield around in a smooth motion.

Alistair hefted his own sword and shield as he circled around the bandit. The man had settled into a combat stance that every soldier in the realm would recognize. It spoke of formal training and Alistair wouldn't be surprised to find that his opponent was a deserter or a hedge knight of some kind.

He tested the distance between them with his blade and noted the way the man shifted in response. To an outside observer, swordplay between two armored warriors could be misconstrued as little more than two men bashing away at each other. In truth, fighting in heavy armor required a man to think carefully and plan his motions in advance.

Quality armor would easily deflect even the sharpest of blades. Thus, the only reasonable course of action was to strike at the few chinks in an opponent's defense. To allow for mobility, plate armor did not fully protect most of the crucial joints. Landing a solid blow to the inside of the elbow or the back of the knee would all but end the fight. For all the protection armor offered, it also tired a warrior and an injury would only add to that burden.

The enemy knight suddenly lunged forward to swing his weapon in a diagonal slash. Catching the blow against his shield, Alistair winced when the damaged wood cracked loudly. Quickly turning his enemy's sword to the side, Alistair cut out with his own blade in a swift riposte.

His opponent was prepared for the attack however, and had already moved his shield long before Alistair's blade came around. The strike clattered harmlessly off the metal boss of his opponent's shield and left Alistair open for a brief moment. Lowering his shoulder, the knight rammed his shield against Alistair's chest and sent him stumbling back.

This time, the knight's sword lashed out and splintered off a significant portion of Alistair's shield. Realizing that the encumbering weight was all but useless now, Alistair dropped the shield from his arm and swung his sword to block the knight's next brutal chop.

The air rang with the loud crashes of metal against metal as the two of them bashed away at each other. Though Alistair was at a significant disadvantage now that he had lost his shield, he also was faster and had at least four inches on his opponent.

Before long, Alistair was breathing hard from the exertion. All the fighting and running of the last several minutes was starting to catch up to him in a big way. It was getting harder to keep his guard up and his movements were starting to go sluggish.

He gasped when his opponent's sword slammed into his ribs. Even though the edge didn't pierce the metal of his breastplate, it carved a great silver gouge into matte surface. More importantly, the blow drove the wind from Alistair's lungs and sent him staggering to the side.

Clutching at his injured flank, Alistair tried to regain his breath as he desperately parried a quick thrust towards his groin. It was a greedy maneuver, and he punished his opponent's eagerness by slamming the hilt of his sword into the man's jaw.

The blow didn't have a lot of power behind it, but bought him enough time to put some distance between the two of them. Alistair forced himself to take deep, even breaths as he eyed his opponent warily. This fight had gone south quickly and he was no longer confident in his chances.

Across from him, the knight paused for a moment to spit out a tooth that had been loosened by Alistair's blow. Tilting his head in Alistair's direction, the knight raised his sword in front of his face in a Warrior's Salute. The salute was a courtesy that was usually employed to acknowledge a worthy opponent on the battlefield. Straitening up slightly, Alistair set his mouth into a grim line and returned the gesture with grave nod. For one long moment, the two of them stood like silent sentinels

Then Kallian kicked the man in the balls from behind.

Bellowing in shock and pain, the knight crumpled to his knees in the deep snow. One gloved hand snaked around the man's helmet and jerked his head back sharply. A bare instant later, Kallian's dagger flashed in the morning sun as it opened the man's throat.

Kallian released the man's head and shoved him so that he fell forward with a wet gurgle. Delicately stepping over the corpse, the elf walked over to Alistair with her dagger dangling loosely in her grip. She offered him a sardonic smile.

"You're welcome."

Alistair slowly lowered his sword. "I was just about to take him."

"Yeah sure, you were doing great." Kallian didn't bother to hide the mockery in her tone as she kicked the remnant of his shield with the toe of her boot. "I'm sure he was on the verge of begging you for his life and all that."

"I would have been gracious in victory." Alistair glanced around to find that the fighting had all but stopped. Sten was currently in the process of finishing off the last remaining archer, but aside from that everything was relatively still. Running his free hand through his hair, he turned back to Kallian. "Still, thanks for the help."

The elf shrugged her narrow shoulders. "Don't mention it. We took a prisoner by the way."

"Is he the leader?"

"Not sure, but he's a whiney little fucker." Kallian motioned for him to follow her as she made her way down the hillside. "He gave up pretty quickly once Morrigan turned her attention in his direction. Heh, the poor bastard practically shit himself when she started roaring."

Alistair chuckled. "I'd have probably done the same in his shoes."

"No kidding, I'm gonna ask her to give us some warning before she pulls that little trick again."

As they walked down the hillside, Alistair felt a small thrill of amazement when he looked over the sight of their skirmish. Where once the hillside had been all but picturesque, it was now stained with bright pools of blood. Steam rose from the rapidly-cooling corpses around him, and Alistair took care not to step on anything unpleasant.

His thoughts turned towards his friends. "Was anyone seriously hurt?"

"I think you and Sten got the worst of it with those arrows at the beginning." Kallian glanced sidelong at him. "Wynne fainted at some point in the fight. She woke up pretty soon afterwards and Leliana is with her right now. She was probably just tired from whatever it was she did back there."

Alistair frowned. "What about Oghren? He was bleeding pretty badly when I saw him earlier."

"He said it's barely a scratch. It had stopped bleeding when I last saw him."

"I thought as much, but you never know with head wounds. They bleed really badly and sometimes the worst damage isn't even visible."

Bobbing her head in agreement, Kallian led him over to where Zevran and Oghren were standing next to a trembling figure. Once they had drawn close enough, Alistair saw that their prisoner was dressed in a halfway-decent suit of splintmail. The man was rather short and his hands were bound tightly behind his back.

Zevran glanced up at their approach. "Ah, and our triumphant leader returns."

"This is the one we took captive?" Alistair glanced down at the man in distaste. "Has he said anything worthwhile?"

"That depends on whether or not you consider crying and begging to be worthwhile." Zevran flicked Alistair a sly smile. "He also made a rather dubious promise of gold if I were to let him go before the rest of you arrived. Aside from that, I fear that he has been rather closemouthed."

Alistair scrutinized their prisoner for a moment before turning at the sound of approaching footsteps. Leaning heavily on Leliana's arm, Wynne offered Alistair a wan smile as the two of the made their way over to stand beside Oghren. Even though Wynne looked as though she were on the verge of collapsing, she still reached out a hand to touch the dwarf's bloody forehead.

"Are you feeling any disorientation or nausea?"

Oghren pushed her hand away with a scoff. "Don't you go worryin' about ole' Oghren. I'll be fine once I get a pint or two in me."

"Good, I doubt I could do too much for you now regardless." Wynne blinked a few times and looked over at Alistair. "You and the Qunari will have to wait until later for healing. That earthquake of mine took everything I had and then some."

He smiled back at her and nodded in understanding. His leg wasn't hurting too badly, but he suspected that would change once the adrenaline wore off. Still, if Wynne needed some time, he could make do with a few Elfroot potions until she was ready to work some more magic.

Speaking of mages, Alistair noticed they were missing one. "Anyone seen Morrigan?"

"She's behind some trees back over there." Leliana gestured in the direction she and Wynne had come from. "I believe she wanted some privacy before she changed back into a human. After all, she wasn't able to shapeshift with her clothing on."

"Ah…that makes sense." Alistair felt heat rise up in his cheeks. "I suppose that a grizzly bear would have looked ridiculous in that getup."

Mentioning the bear drew a frightened little noise from their captive. The man's craggy face was drawn tightly with desperation and Alistair could see that all the fight had been knocked out of him. Without any prompting, the man spoke up in a shaky voice.

"Look, if you let me live, I'll tell you who hired me. We weren't paid enough to deal with all of this shit."

Raising a brow, Alistair shifted from foot to foot. "Hired you? Then I take it that this little ambush wasn't just your average robbery?"

"No! We've been looking for you lot for weeks now!" The man spoke eagerly as though his enthusiasm would curry favor. "We picked up the contract in Denerim and have been hunting along the major roads ever since. It was nothing personal, I promise ya'!"

Kallian exhaled in irritation. "Maker's cock, Loghain just isn't quitting is he? How many assassins can he afford to send after the two of us?"

"Loghain? You mean like the Teryn?" Their prisoner's face scrunched up in confusion. "We weren't hired by no Teryn. The one who sent us was a woman. I never saw her meself, but Derryn told me that she sounded like an Orlesian when she passed the order along."

"Orlesian?" Leliana's sharp interjection made Alistair look over in surprise. The bard's face was uncharacteristically hard as she stalked forward to stand in front of the captive. "Who exactly were you ordered to kill?"

The prisoner shrugged helplessly. "She told us to kill a redheaded girl who was travelling with a group of warriors. One of our boys spotted you a few days back and said your face matched the picture the lady had given us. So we attacked."

Leliana seemed to sag at the prisoner's words. Raising one hand up to clasp at her forehead, the bard let out a long and shaky breath. When she finally drew her hand away, Leliana's face bore a haunted look that made Alistair want to put his arm around her shoulders and tell her that everything would be alright.

"Where is this picture?" Alistair wasn't sure why someone would send hired killers after a Chantry Sister, but he was certain that he was missing something big.

"All our gear is hidden behind some rocks a few hundred yards up the road. The picture should be in Derryn's pack. It's the big brown one with the broken strap." The man jerked his chin in the general direction of the Imperial Highway and gave them an ingratiating smile.

Alistair nodded to Zevran. "Do me a favor and go check to see if he's telling the truth."

The assassin gave him an exaggerated bow before setting off at a brisk trot. Following his progress for a few seconds, Alistair turned back in time to catch the tail-end of a silent exchange between Kallian and Leliana. As soon as she noticed that he was looking her way, Leliana cleared her throat softly.

"These men were sent by a woman I worked with many years ago. Her name is Marjolaine and we parted on bad terms before I came to Fereldan. I can tell you more once we have enough time for the entire story. Believe me; I would have mentioned her earlier if I had felt there was even a slightest chance she would find me here."

Alistair lifted a hand in a calming gesture. "I'm sure you would have. It's really not that big of a deal. Pretty much everyone is trying to kill us these days. Let's wait for Zevran to get back and we can figure out what we have to do about this."

Leliana murmured an agreement and gave him a faint smile. Settling back to wait for Zevran's return, Alistair tried not to think about the nagging pain in his leg as he watched Sten make his way down the hillside. Though the giant's wound was far more severe than Alistair's, Sten showed no sign of it bothering him as he walked.

He noticed Kallian walk over to stand close to Leliana. The two of them traded a few words in hushed tones before Kallian broke away with a troubled look on her face. Squashing the impulse to see if he could learn more about this Marjolaine, Alistair instead occupied himself with helping Wynne sit down on a nearby rock. Though the older mage assured him that she was alright, he couldn't help but notice that she very nearly fell over before she could take a seat.

After he had made sure she was comfortable, Alistair spent the next few minutes looking for a shield to replace the one that he had lost. There wasn't much of a selection amongst the corpses, but he eventually found a round shield of banded wood that was in serviceable condition. At the very least, it would be a good replacement until he could buy something better in Denerim.

He had just finished testing the weight of his new shield when Morrigan stalked out of the trees with her staff in hand. Nodding at her, Alistair slung the shield over his shoulders and made sure that it was tightly secured. "Ah, I see you recovered your stick."

"'Twould appear that I did." The witch sounded huffy as she spoke. "Have I missed anything of importance?"

"These men were assassins sent after Leliana. Some sort of old grudge with another bard or something like that."

Morrigan glared over in Leliana's direction. Before she could say anything however, Kallian called over to the two of them. "Zevran's back. It looks like he's got something with him."

Sighing to himself, Alistair began heading back over to the rest of the group with Morrigan in tow. As they drew up with the others, Alistair felt his eyebrows rise up in surprise when he got a good look at the Antivan assassin.

Zevran was walking alongside a cart that was being pulled by a single mule. The cart had only two wheels and it looked like the type of thing farmers used to haul their goods about. Though the rather dour-looking mule seemed to be getting along fine, it would only take another good storm to make the snow too deep for the cart's wheels to handle.

Kallian clucked her tongue. "Huh, so that _was_ their campsite I scouted earlier."

Alistair glanced over at her and then back at Zevran. Even though the elf was still a good hundred yards off, it seemed to Alistair that Zevran looked unusually serious as he approached. In fact, he'd even go so far as to say that Zevran looked downright angry.

He nodded at Zevran when the elf stopped in front of him. "What's with the cart?"

"It was with their gear and I felt as though you should see what is inside." Zevran stepped forward and pulled out a folded piece of parchment from inside his shirt. "Incidentally, I also found the picture of our lovely Sister. It's a fair representation, but it hardly does her justice."

Alistair took it from him and flicked it open to reveal a passable likeness of the bard. Frowning, he passed it to Leliana. "Thank you Zevran, now what is it you want to show us?"

Zevran moved to one side and gestured towards the cart with a dramatic flourish. Alistair gave Zevran a measuring look as he stepped closer. Though the elf was wearing his usually smirk, there was a cold edge in the lines of his face that gave Alistair a nasty sense of foreboding.

The moment he looked into the cart, Alistair understood Zevran's mood perfectly.

Both of the elf children that stared back up at him were wide-eyed and frightened. The older one, a boy of no more than seven years, was doing his best to hide an even younger girl from view. Their ankles were bound together by silver manacles that were fastened to the floor of the cart by a long length of heavy chain. A dark current of anger rose up in Alistair's breast when he noticed the ugly bruise that spread across one side of the boy's face.

"I couldn't free them from their restraints." Zevran's voice came from over his shoulder. "Those are slave cuffs from the Tevinter Imperium. Only a mage can open them once they have been activated."

Alistair pushed himself away from the cart and turned around. "Morrigan?"

The witch stepped past him and peered at the two children. Extended one delicate finger, Morrigan reached down a lightly touched one of the metal bracelets. Scowling when the children flinched away from her, Morrigan murmured a single word. In response, the manacles glowed with a sickly green light before fading back to their dormant state.

Morrigan shrugged indifferently. "It shall require a few minutes, but I can break them."

"Do it." Alistair looked back at Zevran. "Did they say anything about what happened to them?"

Zevran shook his head. "They did not answer me, but then I'm hardly an expert when it comes to dealing with young children. It is obvious they are not here by choice and their clothing suggests that they are of the Dalish. I would imagine however, that our friend could be persuaded to tell us what he and his fellows intended to do with them."

"I'd like to hear that as well."

Alistair left Morrigan to her task and marched over to where their prisoner was cowering in the snow. Clenching his jaw tightly, Alistair crouched down so that he was on the man's eye-level and grabbed hold of the front of the prisoner's shirt. Jerking the man forward, Alistair tried to convey all of his disgust with a single glare. "Care to explain why you have two children locked up in the back of a cart?"

The man licked his lips and looked around frantically. "That wasn't my idea. I didn't want nothin' to do with it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair noticed Kallian circle behind the prisoner. Her eyes were narrowed and she was toying with a knife in that disconcerting fashion of hers. Glancing up at her briefly, Alistair gave her a warning look before asking his next question.

"How long have they been with you?"

"One of our boys was hunting a few days back when he stumbled on the two of 'em." The man was craning his neck to follow Kallian's motions as she paced back and forth behind him. "Then Derryn told us we were gonna' sell 'em when we got back to Denerim."

Zevran stepped closer to the man. "Where exactly were you planning on doing this? Slavery is illegal and even the gangs do not sink that low."

The prisoner shrugged in a motion that was too offhanded to be genuine.

"You really don't want to be keeping any secrets right now." Alistair released the man and settled back onto his heels. It was time for a little 'good guard, bad guard'. "If you can't talk to me, then I suppose I'll have to let that elf behind you ask the questions. I'll warn you, she's not as personable as I am."

It sounded a little corny to his ears, but it seemed to hit the mark for their convict. Shuddering, the man shook his head rapidly. "Ok, ok….there's some buyers set up in Denerim right now. They got a standing bounty on any elves that can be taken without causin' a ruckus. They was the ones who gave us the magic shackles."

"Give us a name." Kallian's rasping voice held a very audible note of menace.

For a moment, the man just stared helplessly at Alistair. Then, he swallowed and gave a resigned shrug. "I can't tell you who they are…they'll kill me."

Kallian cut off his ear.

Blood spurted from the side of the man's head as he fell forward with an agonized scream. Alistair jerked back in surprise and leapt to his feet to avoid the man's panicked flailing. Glaring over at Kallian, he pointed down at the writhing form at his feet. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"That he needs to give us an answer." Kallian sharp features were implacable as she met his gaze. "Are you going to waste your tears on a murdering slaver?"

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "We don't torture people, Kallian. Even if that's what they deserve."

"What, cause we're big damn heroes or something?"

"Actually, yes!"

Zevran cleared his throat in an apparent attempt to forestall further argument. "Shall we see if he's more receptive?"

After tossing Alistair an ugly look, Kallian knelt down and yanked the man's head up by his hair. "I'll ask you one more time: who's paying for captured elves? I would think really carefully about your other ear before you answer."

"I dunno their names!" The man yelped when Kallian brought her blade up. "Hold on, don't cut me! All I know is that they was a bunch of Tevinter boys in fancy robes! We saw 'em near the Gnawed Noble!"

Kallian released him and flicked a challenging look up at Alistair as she did. Shaking his head in frustration, Alistair turned his head to stare over at where Morrigan was working on the slave cuffs. Chances were those kids were cold and hungry. They should be the priority in all of this.

"Alright, everyone gather your gear. We'll travel up the road a few miles and pitch camp for the day. Some of us need to rest and I'd like it if we could see to those kids before we go too much further. Sten, are you still carrying that extra blanket?"

Sten nodded. "Yes."

"Good, dig it out of your pack and give it to the children once Morrigan finishes her thing. Wynne, If you're feeling up to it I was hoping you might try to calm them down a bit. I figure they'd do better with you than some blood-covered warrior."

"It would be my pleasure."

Leliana smiled at the mage. "May I come with you? Not to brag, but I have always been told I have a way with children."

"Of course, dear." Wynne leaned on Leliana's arm for support as they walked toward the cart. "I recall the way you soothed those apprentices back at the Tower. I don't think I've had ever seen little Janus act that calmly before. Maker help me, but he was a proper little hell-raiser."

After they had passed by, Alistair decided to go see if he could rustle up something for the kids to eat. Before he had gotten more than a step or two, Kallian spoke up behind him.

"What do we do with this one?"

Pausing, Alistair looked over his shoulder at her. "The King's Law says that slavery is punishable by death."

"That it does."

"The Law also specifies that he deserves a trial by judge or by panel." Alistair let out a long breath. "Then again, I can't see that happening in the near future; so I suppose that we're as close to justice as it gets around here. If you don't want to do it, I will."

Kallian tilted her head at him. "No need to get your hands dirty. I can do it."

"Fine….just make sure it's quick."

He resumed walking. A few moments later, the unmistakable sound of a blade entering flesh tore through the still air. Several feeble coughs followed after and then there was nothing but the sound of the party members moving about along the clearing.

Somehow, it didn't feel like justice to him.

* * *

Ah, so another unfortunate delay in updating on my part. Luckily, my final exam was last friday and I have no more pressing commitments for the next three months or so. My goal is to focus on this fic so there will ideally be more rapid updates from this point forward.

The next chapter will be from a new POV and I'm looking forward to it. I will be drawing back from Leliana and Kallian for a brief spell, but the Dalish plotline will focus heavily on their interactions and a few personal dilemmas.

Please considering reviewing, I am a shameless attention whore and I thrive upon feedback.


	23. Unnatural Progresion

Chapter 23: Unnatural Progression

Imperial Highroad-The Brecilian Forest

* * *

xxXxx

…

Zevran Arainai was well on his way towards becoming pleasantly drunk.

Though he would never presume to speak for everyone in Thedas, it was his humble opinion that alcohol made life bearable. It chased away the night's chill and left his mind unburdened by thoughts of either his past or his future. All troubles fled before the warm ambivalence that had settled over him like an extra blanket. It was such a miraculous cure that he often wondered how anyone could say that alcohol was nothing more than a crutch.

Even so, Zevran had never taken exception to that sentiment. He had always considered himself something of a cripple.

Beside him, Oghren belched loudly as he handed Zevran the mostly-empty wineskin the two of them were sharing. Despite having a most unappealing tendency to create odors, the dwarf had proven to be an entertaining drinking companion over the past few weeks. There more pleasant individuals amongst their merry group, but Oghren had a truly remarkable capacity for bullshitting. That, and he was more than willing to share his stash of alcohol with anyone who would deign to listen to his ramblings.

Tonight however, they were drinking some of the liquor that Zevran had managed to loot from the gear of the men who had attacked them earlier in the day. It was by no means high-quality, but it was not unbearable and it did its job well enough. With the nearby fire crackling cheerfully and the wine settling in his stomach, Zevran was prepared to say that he was more or less content.

The only real complaint he had at the moment was that Sten insisted on sharpening his sword by the fire. Zevran understood the importance of good weapon maintenance, but the Qunari took the whole thing to a ridiculous level. Ever since the Warden had helped him recover his special sword, Sten had spent every night tending to the blade like a father to his favorite child. Consequently, the incessant grating of a whetstone against metal had rapidly grown into a tremendous annoyance. After tolerating it for days, Zevran had finally decided to say something.

"You know, if you keep sharpening that blade it will eventually wear down to nothing."

Sten paused in his motions and glanced over at him. "This is my _asala_. It is the manifestation of my spiritual being. If I allowed it to go uncared for, it would be akin to blackening my very soul. It was made by the Qunari and it will not be damaged so easily. It will only falter when I do."

"My, but that does sound very mystical." Zevran took a long sip from the wineskin. "Although it does patently ignore the principles behind sharpening a blade, I have to say that it is an extremely inspired outlook. And here I was thinking this was all some type of Qunari overcompensation."

"You make a mockery of that which you do not understand. I'd pity you if you were not so irritating." Sten resumed his methodic sharpening.

Oghren leaned forward to peer at the giant. "I think I get why ya' do it. Every time ya' use the blade, ya' gotta sharpen it, right? Now if the sword is yer soul, then sharpening the sword means you're losin' a little bit of yer soul every time ya' use the blade. So this is all one big metapha-whatsit for how fighting takes a toll on a warrior's soul. Ya' kill a man, and ya' lose a little bit of what makes ya' who ya' are!"

"No, that is incorrect."

"Hmph…shitfire," Oghren slumped back into his seat. "I was just starting to think I was onto something."

Zevran handed him the wineskin in sympathy and tried to ignore the scraping sounds that were coming from where Sten was sitting. He supposed he could always move away to escape the sound, however he happened to like this warm spot by the fire. Besides, it was better to sit here with the two of them than to be drinking alone.

A murmur of soft voices floated over from where Leliana was sitting with Kallian. The two of them were perched close together on a log some forty feet from the warmth of the fire. Using the light of Wynne's staff, the two women were supposedly working on Kallian's literacy. Zevran wouldn't call them liars, but he had never known reading to involve that much laughter or playful shoving.

Shortly after departing Redcliffe, the two of them had made it fairly obvious that they were involved with each other. While this seemed to have come as a surprise to most of his companions, Zevran had suspected that there was something between them for quite time. He had never had any real confirmation, but Kallian had been flashing moon eyes at the bard's back since the day Zevran had met her. On top of that, after Orzammar, the two of them had kept running off together for the most transparent of reasons. Only the truly obtuse could ignore something like that.

Truth be told, it explained a great deal. Zevran had been initially confused as to why neither one of them had shown even the slightest bit of interest in his masculine charms.

Now though, everyone camp had figured it out thanks to the less-than-subtle hints the two women had been dropping. No one had really reacted to the news, which Zevran had found to be depressingly anticlimactic. At the very least, he had hoped that the Templar would get all embarrassed and stuffy once he realized what was going on. Instead, everyone seemed to have just accepted the situation without any great displays of either enthusiasm or outrage.

Honestly, it was like this Fereldans had no concept of drama.

Zevran shrugged to himself and got up to retrieve another drink. Even if there was still something left in the wineskin they had, it would only be a matter of time before it ran dry. Striding over to his bedroll, he picked a sealed bottle of rot-gut whiskey that had caught his eye earlier. Wondering vaguely if it would mix well with the wine already inside him, Zevran whistled a small tune as he made his way back to the fire.

In his absence, Alistair had apparently decided to join them beside the fire. Offering the human a congenial nod, Zevran reclaimed his seat with a satisfied sound. After setting the bottle to one side, he leaned back and stared up at the stars.

Beside him, Oghren sucked the last of the wine from the skin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, what's the story with the brats? Are we gonna try and get them back to their people right away or what?"

"For now, that seems like the best course of action." Alistair had taken out a half-finished carving and was studying it with a judicious eye. "I'd like to get them back to the Dalish as quickly as possible in order to avoid any unpleasantness. From what Gerrand has told me, the ambushers only captured him and Ellet a few days ago. Since we are going north anyways, I hardly think it will be too much of an inconvenience to seek out his clan along the way. Besides, it will present a perfect opportunity to ask for their aid."

Zevran nodded in approval. "A fine strategy indeed. Taking the road to Denerim has worked out better than any of us could have expected."

"You can say that again. Now even Morrigan has nothing to complain about."

As he spoke, Alistair craned his head around to stare off in the direction of the witch's solitary fire. Zevran followed his gaze and was not surprised to see that Morrigan was bent over that spellbook of hers. It seemed as though she was content to spend every spare moment with her lovely nose buried between those pages.

"Ah, but I don't think she will ever be satisfied until she is making the decisions." Zevran wrenched the cork for the whiskey bottle and offered it to Alistair. "That's not a universally bad trait in my opinion. Some men like a woman who is not afraid to take charge. It can be very liberating under the right circumstances."

"Please, let's not talk about that. I'm still digesting dinner." Alistair took the bottle from Zevran and stared at it with no small amount of trepidation. Glancing between the three of them quickly, the Templar placed the bottle to his lips and took a hearty sip.

The ensuing coughing fit caused Oghren to laugh like a man possessed.

After he had gotten himself under control, Alistair handed the bottle back to Zevran and wiped at his watering eyes. Clearing his throat roughly, the human smiled like a child who had done something naughty and gave Zevran a sheepish look.

"I've been meaning to thank you for today. Not only did you find those kids, but I also saw the way you helped Wynne when everything went to hell." Alistair shrugged his broad shoulders. "I've been judging you rather harshly because of the assassin thing and I don't think you deserve it. So, I'm sorry about all that."

Zevran stroked a finger along the neck of the whiskey bottle as he stared across at the other man. He wondered if Alistair would be so generous in his forgiveness if Zevran were to tell him about all the things that he had done during his time with the Antivan Crows. These people were certainly aware that he was an assassin, but he seriously doubted if any of them actually knew that entailed. The gritty particulars of his career were enough to inspire revulsion in the most hardened of soldiers.

Of course, his companions were hardly men and women of peace. Take Leliana, with her mysterious past that most likely did not stray far from Zevran's own. And then there was Kallian who was so quick to sever a man's ear just this afternoon. Even Alistair had his fair share of blood on his hands. Realistically speaking, this was a collection of extremely violent people who would be condemned as lunatics were they not fighting for a cause.

They would express revulsion for his actions all the same. Each of them could claim to be fighting for a country, duty, or simple survival. That Zevran had committed his atrocities for the sake of coin would be the line in the sand. It was as though having a good reason justified violence.

He kept these thoughts to himself as he tilted his head in recognition to Alistair's statement. "Pay it no thought. You were far kinder than I would have been had our positions be reversed. Speaking of our lovely mage, how is she faring?"

"I just spoke to her and she seemed much better." Alistair stretched his feet out in front of him. "She was fussing over the two kids earlier. I think she just managed to put them both to sleep. It's kind of funny actually; she seems so much younger when she's around children."

The two Dalish children they had picked up had turned out to be siblings. After he had calmed down somewhat, the boy Gerrand had told them all about how he and his sister Ellet had been kidnapped. Even though he had been utterly terrified when Zevran had stumbled upon him, the precocious seven-year-old had made it sound as if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a great adventure.

While they had been understandingly recalcitrant at first, the children had opened up considerably after a few hours with Leliana. In spite of the fact that she was probably the first human woman either of them had ever seen, the bard had somehow managed to win their undying affection. It had gotten to the point where they would gladly follow her into the Deep Roads if she ever were to ask.

"Wynne is a sparkling jewel in our midst." Zevran laughed softly and took a swig from the bottle.

He jumped in surprise when a peal of laughter cut through the night's air. Glancing over to the side, Zevran saw that Leliana was laughing helplessly at something Kallian had said. The book that they were supposed to be reading was lying forgotten to one side, and the human woman had her arm around Kallian's shoulders in a loose embrace.

Oghren snorted loudly and swiped the bottle form Zevran's unresisting grip. "By the Ancestors…if that isn't the biggest waste, than I don't know what is."

"What are you talking about?" Alistair gave Oghren a confused look.

"I'm talkin' about that blighted situation over there." Oghren jabbed a thumb over in the direction of the two women. "It's a cruel joke on the lot of us. The world produces two fine examples of the female form and makes it so all they wanna' do is each other. Where's the sense in all of that?"

"Ah…is this some lingering resentment from the whole Branka and Hespith thing?"

"It's got nothin' to do with that at all." Oghren glared at Alistair indignantly. "All I'm saying is that it isn't fair. Part of why I signed up for this load of nug shit is that I thought I had a chance with at least one of 'em. How was I supposed to know that they were sniffin' around each other?"

Sten paused his sharpening and lifted his head. "It is the logical progression of their abnormality. They are women who pretend to be warriors in order to be treated as men. If they seek to inhabit a male's role, it follows that they would try to lie with a woman."

"Ah, but if that were the case, would it not be better for them to seek out a man who wished to act like a woman?" Zevran smiled at the Qunari. "I am no theologian, but it seems to me that because they still profess femininity, they would be inclined to deviate from that contradiction by lying with a man. Thus, a man with feminine traits would be appealing to both aspects of their psyche."

"Your assessment is flawed in that…." Sten paused for a long moment. "In that…it is flawed."

Alistair chuckled. "I think Sten just got out-Qunaried."

"That is ridiculous."

"It's also not important." Oghren carelessly tossed the whiskey to Alistair. "I'm not sayin' that there's anything wrong with what the two of 'em are doin'. I'm just sayin' that they should be sleepin' with ole' Oggy instead."

"We are fortunate to have such an enlightened mind amongst our ranks." Zevran rested his chin on one hand and stared at Oghren in amusement. Most of the time, he couldn't tell whether or not the dwarf had any concept of how ridiculous he could be. "Though I must ask, how do you even know that anything is going on between the two of them?"

"Yer kiddin' right? They're always touchin' each other and laughin' about things. Plus, they keep runnin' off together whenever they can. You'd have to be blind not to see it."

Zevran shrugged and put on an innocent smile. "They sound like nothing more than good friends to me. Unless I'm mistaken, none of us have seen them share so much as a chaste kiss."

"Well, I wouldn't say—" Alistair broke off abruptly. "Err….so how about that ambush today?"

Oghren had picked up on the scent of blood. Leaning forward, the dwarf peered over at the Templar from across the fire. "Now just hold on for one blighted second. It sounds like ya' know a secret about those two. Ya' got something' you wanna tell us?"

"I…uh, don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh yeah?" Oghren made as if to rise. "Maybe I'll just go over there and ask 'em myself."

Alistair waved him down furiously. "No! Maker's Breath, I'll tell you if you just sit down!"

Looking mightily pleased with himself, the dwarf sat back onto his log and gave the human an expectant look. For his part, Alistair glanced over both shoulders a few times before turning back to face them. Zevran tilted his head in curiosity and noted with some amusement that Sten had all but forgotten about his sword.

"Blast it…alright fine; Morrigan and I saw them together. It was back at Castle Redcliffe, and I would appreciate it if none of you mentioned that you know about this. The last thing I need is to have Kallian breathing down my neck for spreading it around."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "When you say together…?"

"You know, kissing and stuff." Alistair made a circular gesture with both hands that only served to make things more unclear. "Anyway, Morrigan interrupted them, and none of us have said anything about it since."

There was a brief pause.

Oghren shook his head slowly. "You mean that's it? By the Bleedin' Stone lad, things would've turned out different if I had been in yer shoes! Surrounded by three beautiful women, and two of them already primed and ready? Heh, even the most twisted Antivan whore doesn't have a name for the types of things we woulda' done."

"Yes, I'm certain that you are exactly what they are looking for." Zevran rolled his eyes skyward. "A small, hairy man who belches for entertainment and regularly vomits. That is the stuff of romance."

"Ah, what do you know elf? I know well enough what the ladies are after. It would've been just like in those smut leaflets that they sell in the seedier parts of Orzammar."

Alistair looked torn between disgust and amusement. "Do I even want to know?"

"Ya' bet yer ass; those little things are what makes a boy into a man." Oghren rubbed his hands together and snickered. "I know how this kinda thing goes. It's like when the handsome Forgemaster goes off to the markets and his two buxom assistance get naughty wit' one another. Then he's gotta come back and show 'em the proper way to handle a hammer."

Alistair sighed. "That's a real firm grip on reality you've got there."

"Like you would know, ya' little pike-twirler!"

"Pike-twirler?" Sten's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I am unfamiliar with this term."

Oghren chortled. "Ya' haven't seen him? Get this: the Chantry boy goes out into the forest when the rest of us busy and—"

"OK!" Alistair clapped his hands together loudly. His face had turned bright-red, and the glare he was sending Oghren was borderline murderous. "I think that it is time we got back to the subject at hand. No one's interested in something like that."

Any reply that the dwarf might have offered was cut off when Morrigan stepped into the light of the fire. Glancing at the four of them with barely-concealed contempt, the witch stalked past Alistair and began to rummage in a nearby bag. A few moments of this, Morrigan raised her head and glanced around at them suspiciously.

"Why did you all stop talking when I arrived? What are you trying to hide?"

Zevran coughed to mask a burst of uncontrollable laughter. All around the fire, four males of completely different races and backgrounds shared a look of perfect understanding. Collectively shrugging, they all spoke at once.

"Err…nothing."

"Little of consequence."

"Nothing to worry yourself over _bella_."

"Two girls ruttin'."

…

…

…

All eyes slowly turned towards Oghren.

Morrigan looked dumbstruck for the first time since Zevran had met her. "I pray that I did not just hear that."

"Aw hell, ya' know what I'm talkin' about." Oghren leered up at her in a way that made Zevran feel unclean. "Two girls gettin' down to their skins and touchin' each other all sexy-like. Then they start to get down to the kissin' part. Sure, it's a little scary for both of them, but it makes them feel safe at the same time."

Zevran raised his eyebrows.

"Heh heh heh…then they start rubbin'…and uh, fondling each other." Oghren was beginning to go cross eyed. "Then comes the…the…licking! And then they start gettin' all sweaty and slippery cause it's so damn hot out here…"

"Erm…Oghren?" Alistair coughed uncomfortably.

Oghren paused, and stood up slowly. "I'll be in my bunk."

Without another word, the dwarf trundled off in the direction of his tent. Basking in the delicious catastrophe that was this moment, Zevran let his eyes trail between his three remaining companions. While Sten was predictably taking this in stride, neither Alistair nor Morrigan seemed to be coping well.

Morrigan fixed Alistair with a scathing glance. "Tis remarkable that you men can remember how to breathe without referring to notes."

"Hey! I didn't say anything about fondling or sexy touching!" Alistair pointed after Oghren in a demonstrative fashion. "I didn't even want to have this conversation! They made me!"

The witch let out a derisive scoff and turned on her heel. As she strode away, Alistair followed her progress with a frustrated look on his face. Plastering on a friendly smile when the human turned in his direction, Zevran shrugged helplessly. "Ah, the fairer sex is ever mysterious. It seems like no topic is safe."

"Right…mysterious." Alistair stood up with a grimace. "Well, I can't say that went well. I'll take the second watch tonight. The two of you can decide who takes the first."

Zevran saluted him with the bottle as the Templar began walking away. Though he was a little too tightly-wound for his own good, Alistair was not a bad man by any means. He did not seem like the type of person to give orders or shout, but Alistair had impressed Zevran over the last few weeks. If he could gain a little more confidence, the man could become a force to reckon with.

"Do you wish for the first watch? I am willing to take it if you do not desire it."

Blinking, Zevran turned to face Sten. "I suggest that you take it. Your tent is closest to Oghren's, and I fear that the dwarf is even louder than you when he tends to his weapon."

"A fair point." Sten inclined his head in a severe nod and left Zevran alone with his thoughts.

If he were a smarter elf, Zevran would have made his way to his tent in order to get some sleep before he awoke. Having the third shift was not the worst of the lot, but he would still be tired and hung over when he eventually awoke. He would be well-advised to get as much sleep as possible in order to alleviate future misery.

Stupid as he was, Zevran instead chose to finish off the rest of the whiskey simply because it was there. Though it was not the healthiest choice, he could not bring himself to retire just yet. The fire was pleasantly warm, and the night sky sprawled above him in a captivating fashion.

It was a perfect atmosphere for self-reflection, but Zevran had never been one for introspection. Rather, he had always preferred to study others when given the choice. They were typically far more interesting than his private thoughts, and he took a certain pleasure in noticing what others could not. In his humble opinion, too many people were far too concerned with their own problems to take the time to watch those around them. With a little perspective and some simple insight, one could learn a great deal about his fellows.

By way of example, he doubted that anyone else had noticed the way Sten always whistled for the dog whenever he went off to hunt or scout. He would never admit as much, but the Qunari must be terribly lonely in this foreign land. However diverse their group may be, none of them could claim to have much in common with a devout follower of the Qun. Even an animal's eager company must be a welcome thing for someone in Sten's position.

Then there was Morrigan, an outsider in every sense of the word. It would be easy to dismiss her as morally insane, but Zevran believed her to be a far more pitiable example of humanity. Where others only saw the outward contempt and hostility, he had noticed the boundless hunger in her face when she watched the others interact. Her tragedy was that she had no way on knowing how to gain the acceptance she so clearly desired. Those caustic insults of hers sometimes seemed like nothing more than a confused attempt to insert herself into the lives of others.

Zevran rubbed a finger along his jaw and glanced over at the witch's fire. He wondered if she was aware of the glances Alistair had been sending her way lately. It was doubtful that she had, Zevran didn't even think the Templar was aware of what he was doing.

He chuckled to himself and tipped the last of the unpleasant liquor down his throat. The moment he swallowed, Zevran knew that last drink had been one too many. His stomach roiled unpleasantly, and there was a brief moment in which he experienced the certainty of the damned. It wouldn't be long before the whiskey made a second appearance.

Swallowing thickly in an attempt to master his internal workings, Zevran settled back into his seat and tried to take his mind off of the sick feeling in his gut. A quick glance around the camp revealed that he was now practically alone. Alistair and Morrigan had left for their respective tents, and Sten had disappeared into the surrounding wilderness for one of his meandering patrols.

Even Kallian and Leliana were gone, though Zevran had neither seen nor heard them depart.

The faint sound of hoarse moaning made him look over at Oghren's tent in disgust. He was no stranger to attending to one's needs, but any civilized individual was more than capable of controlling the volume of such an endeavor. Assaulted by the mental image of Oghren in that situation, Zevran stood up on wobbly legs in order to escape the sounds emanating from the dwarf's tent.

Feeling strangely energetic despite the late hour, he decided on taking a brief stroll to clear his head. A little bit of cold air would do him a world of good, and the stars were bright enough to light his way. So, stumbling about rather unsteadily, he made his way out of camp with no particular direction in mind.

In spite of the alcohol and the warm cloak around his shoulders, Zevran shivered as he walked between the snowcapped trees. For whatever opportunities it may present, Ferelden was just too cold for his tastes. It made him long for the warm beaches and sunny fields of Antiva.

His heart grew heavy thought of his homeland. Though there was no way to know what the future may hold, he had accepted the fact that Antiva would never be open to him again. The Crows held too much influence to allow him to live safely within its borders.

Zevran sighed and cast the thoughts of Antiva elsewhere. Life was meant to be lived, not lamented. If Antiva was no longer a possibility, than he would have to find some greener pasture in which to build himself a life. He had heard that Kirkwall and the rest of the Free Marches were good places to start anew. Perhaps he could convince the Wardens to let him leave for distant lands once all of this was over…

The thought proved to be an uplifting one. There was no reason at all that Zevran couldn't make a future for himself. The world may be an unfriendly place, but it had also treated many people with kindness. All he had to do was remain positive and take opportunities when they came his way.

Zevran smiled to himself and took a deep breath. It felt like everything was going alright for a change.

Then his stomach heaved and he vomited onto his shoes.

…

xxXxx

Nearly two days later, he found himself in the middle of the Brecilian Forest.

While much of Ferelden was covered in trees of all shapes and sizes, the Brecilian Forest stood out for a reason that was difficult to identify. For one thing, this place was ancient. Its oppressive age had a presence like an old man lingering long past his time. Though he knew he was being foolish, Zevran felt older the farther they went into its borders.

There was also a distinctive wildness to the area. Even with their branches laid bare by the winter months, the trees loomed above them in a way that inspired claustrophobia. He could only assume that the Brecilian Forest would be a maze of untamed growth once spring arrived. For now though, it was as if they were walking in a graveyard full of colossal tombstones.

To put it concisely, Zevran would not be surprised if the trees came alive and ate him.

Ahead of him, Alistair and Leliana were leading the group with the two Dalish children at their sides. In addition to falling in love with Leliana, the kids had somehow come to hero-worship Alistair. Having apparently forgotten that it was Zevran who had found them, both Gerrand and Ellet had decided that the Templar had been the one who rescued them.

Honestly, all he had done was order Morrigan to free them.

To be fair though, Alistair looked the part of the hero with his shining armor and golden hair. If Zevran were an impressionable child who made ill-informed decisions, he might also be inclined to think that Alistair was the Maker himself. As it were, Zevran could not help but think it was slightly unusual that the two elven children would choose to latch themselves onto a pair of humans.

Then again, their alternative was him and Kallian…

He shrugged off his train of thought and tried to figure out why he felt so uneasy. Granted, the forest was wondrously creepy, but there was something off about their surroundings that kept him from relaxing. It was probably just paranoia brought on by the close proximity of their last ambush.

The group stopped in a small clearing some fifteen minutes later. Out of consideration for their young traveling companions, they had been taking breaks far more frequently these last few days. It made their progress a little slower, but only Sten had voiced a complaint on that front.

Alistair was studying the surrounding trees. "So, this is looking familiar then?"

"Uh-huh," Gerrand nodded his head enthusiastically. "We used to play around here before we got captured. We'll be home soon!"

"You're sure? It's easy to get turned around in here." Kallian stepped out from behind Sten and eyed a nearby tree with distaste. "I don't understand how anyone can navigate with these things. It's damn near impossible considering how they all look alike.

"Maybe for a Flat-Ears. _We_ don't have trouble."

Leliana clucked her tongue and gave the boy a disapproving look. "That was rude Gerrand. You should apologize to Kallian."

Gerrand glanced between Leliana and Kallian with a sullen expression. After a second, he looked down and kicked a small clump of snow with his boot. "M'sorry."

Kallian's eyes briefly flashed at the boy's disingenuous tone, but her face remained an icy mask of composure. Staring down at the elf child for a few moments, she eventually turned towards Alistair. "If we are nearing the Dalish camp, should we be trying to make our presence known? I don't think they'd appreciate us sneaking up on them."

"Maybe, but I'd assume they have sentries that will meet us."

Ellet spoke up in a shy voice. "Our mum's a scout. She always sees things before they see her."

"Right, there you go." Alistair indicated the girl with his hand. "If anything, they will probably be the one's sneaking up on us. In a friendly way if we are lucky."

Wynne laughed. "Let's hope that is the case. I will confess; I am actually rather curious to meet the Dalish. I've never had dealings with any of their kind outside of the children here. It would be fascinating to sit down and learn something of their history."

"You know, I've actually met a Dalish elf before all of this." Alistair scrunched up his face in thought. "He was a Grey Warden who I met in Ostagar and—"

"_Whom_ I met in Ostagar." Morrigan interjected smoothly.

"…Maker, but I hate it when you do that."

"I will not apologize for attempting to educate."

"Educate all you want, I just absolutely hate it when people interrupt me in the middle—"

Kallian hissed and held up a hand to cut him off. "Shut up. Did anyone else hear that?"

The entire group went still as everyone turned their attention to the surrounding forest. Zevran frowned slightly and tried to pick up on whatever it was that Kallian had heard. While elves generally had keener senses than the other races, Kallian's hearing seemed sharper than most. For a few long moments, he listened carefully and was rewarded with nothing but the sound of his companion's breathing.

He sighed and relaxed his muscles. "I do not hear anything."

"Hardly surprising, you city elves have forgotten how to trust your ears."

The voice that responded to him was colored by an odd, lilting cadence. Before any of them could react, a half-score of elves had suddenly appeared out of the surrounding trees. Clad in the distinctive leather armor of the Dalish, the elves were hard-eyed and grim as they spread out around the party. Though their clothing lacked any uniformity, every single one of the elves carried a slender bow carved from the ironwood that was so treasured amongst their kind.

And all those bows were drawn and held at the ready.

Oghren cursed loudly and jerked a hand in the direction of his war hammer. An instant before his hand reached the shaft, a green-feathered arrow zipped past his ear to embed itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. Reflexively jerking away from the missile, the dwarf sent a malevolent glare in the direction it had come from. The message was clear however, and he didn't reach for his weapon a second time.

The elf closest to their party stepped closer and aimed his bow at Alistair's face. When he spoke, it was evident that he had been the one to address them earlier. "I never thought I'd meet a shemlen dumb enough to kidnap our children and then show his face around here again."

"What! Oh no, no, no, no, no," Alistair waved his hands in denial. "We didn't kidnap anybody! Actually, we were the ones to rescue the two of them. We're here to bring them home."

The elf just glared at him for a moment before jerking his head sharply to the left. Immediately, two of the elves behind him moved forward to shepherd Gerrand and Ellet away from the party. As soon as they were a safe distance away, he spoke to the children without moving his gaze from the party.

"Gerrand, is there truth to the shemlen's words?"

Gerrand nodded eagerly. "It's the truth Alriote, they saved us. They're Grey Wardens and stuff."

"Grey Wardens? I find that hard to believe given present circumstances." The elf known as Alriote narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "It sounds like a fanciful lie to me. Keeper Zathrian said that the last of the Wardens perished in the southlands. These shemlen are most likely impostors looking to trick us."

Zevran laughed. "Blast, he's found us out. Our devious plan to save children and return them to their mothers has been foiled it would seem."

As was too often the case, Zevran's wit proved to be grossly underappreciated. Flushing at the mockery in his tone, Alriote lowered his bow and strode over to Zevran with a dark expression. Stepping close so that he loomed over Zevran, the Dalish elf leaned in and spoke in a menacing tone.

"If I wanted some impudent Flat-Ears to speak, I would have told you to do so."

Smiling broadly, Zevran gave the other elf a quick once-over. Alriote was tall for an elf, and it was clear that he was used to being the alpha male in his little tribe. His face was inked with the swirling tattoos that signified maturity amongst the Dalish. Though he held himself like one trained in combat, by placing himself this close to Zevran he had revealed him to be more of a bully than a warrior. A true killer knew that bravado and intimidation were poor armor against a sharp blade to the gut.

Kallian cleared her throat. "We have a treaty that proves we are who we claim to be. If you take us to your camp, we can sort all of this out."

Alriote glanced over at her for only the barest of moments before turning his glare back at Zevran. "I don't care if you have a thousand shemlen documents. There is no chance I'm going to let a group of shems and Flat-Ears enter our camp. You'll be lucky if I let you keep your lives."

"But Alriote, they helped us!" Gerrand was starting to look worried. "They're really nice and they want to save us from the Blight!"

One of the other elven warriors stepped forward. Pulling down her hood, she revealed herself to be pale-skinned woman with her hair cropped close to her scalp. "Creators above Alriote, you act like this is your decision to make. The children vouch for them and the Keeper might be interested in their documents. We should bring them to Zathrian."

Alriote scowled at her and grumbled something unintelligible. Zevran had privately decided that he would go low with his blade if this came to a fight. There was a very important artery near the groin that people forgot about all too often. It would be wonderfully gratifying to see this _maldito_ _hijo de mil putas_ bleed out on the ground.

Regrettably, cooler heads prevailed, and Alriote stepped away from Zevran after one last challenging look. Proud of his restraint, Zevran only fixed him with a cheerful smile as the elf strode back to join the rest of the Dalish.

Alriote faced the entire party rather grudgingly. "Alright, we'll take you to see the Keeper. Put one foot out of line however, and I'll kill you myself."

Following that dreadfully frightening pronouncement, the Dalish elves moved to surround the entire party as Alriote led them northwards. Though the other elves keep their arrows notched, none of them were as overtly threatening as Alriote had been. In fact, the pale-skinned woman who had spoken up in their favor fell in beside Zevran and gave him an easy smile.

"Sorry about that, Alriote is an ass to just about everyone."

Zevran glanced sidelong at her. At this distance, he could clearly see the delicate waves of the tattoos that spread across her cheeks. "I'm not all that upset, _bella_. Any offense his presence caused has been completely offset by the pleasure of your company. Tell me, what is the name of my lovely savior?"

"I'm called Senna" The woman paused for a moment. "That accent sounds foreign. Are you from across the Waking Sea?"

"Indeed I am. My name is Zevran Arainai and I hail from the country of Antiva. If you have never been, I cannot recommend it highly enough. It is a place of passionate lovemaking and the rare sort of adventure that makes one feel gloriously alive. No one who had been ever wishes to leave Antiva."

Senna raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Business I'm afraid." Zevran gave her a suggestive smile. "Although I would have come sooner if I had known about the rare beauties to be found here."

She laughed and blushed prettily. "Do you always try to be this charming?"

"Alas no, but it comes naturally with such inspiration." He shrugged helplessly and adopted a cheerful tone. "I'm certain that I could think of a hundred more appropriate things to say about you if I was given the time. Though, I fear you may have to find me after this is all settled if you wish to hear them."

Grinning, Senna gazed at him from beneath her lashes. "I might just do that."

Bringing up the hood of her cloak, the Dalish woman pulled ahead of him to move towards of the front of the group. Watching her go with a satisfied smile, Zevran allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to get her alone for a time. He had a feeling she would be an energetic lover.

Oghren snorted loudly at his side. "We're here for five minutes and yer already tryin' to bed one of these savages?"

"Jealousy does not become you my stocky little friend. Perhaps I can ask if she has a homely sister that might take pity on you."

"Fuck yerself."

Zevran smiled and hummed a little tune as they walked past a small stream that had frozen over. Soon, the distant sound of voices and daily life pierced through the dense wall of trees. With a suddenness that surprised him, the forest opened up to reveal a wide clearing dotted with large tents and wooden carriages. Off to one side, a large paddock held a number of cloven animals that resembled deer save for their long and twisted horns. Though he had never seen one, Zevran assumed that these were the _halla _that the forest elves prized so highly.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed for very long. All around them, elves paused what they doing to turn and stare at the motley procession. Though Zevran kept a smile fixed onto his lips, he began to grow uneasy as he saw little else but fear and anger in the faces of the assembled Dalish. If this turned unpleasant, their party wouldn't even have a fighting chance.

A woman appeared from behind one of the tents and sprinted towards them. At the sight of her, both Ellet and Gerrand bounded forth to meet her with cries of delight. Laughing and crying in equal measure, the woman collapsed to her knees and gathered them both into a tight hug.

Senna turned back to look at them. "That is Edena, their mother. She's spent the last week combing the woods for the men who took her children. We were just about to give up on the searching parties before we stumbled upon all of you."

"How terrible," Wynne spoke softly from the center of the group. "There is no pain like losing a child. It is good that we could spare her that grief."

Alriote steered them towards a large tent that had been erected in the center of the camp. Stopping some twenty feet from the entrance, Alriote turned back with an unpleasant sneer. "Wait here, I will return with the Keeper."

Alistair nodded curtly in response to the command. At some point, the Templar had apparently abandoned any attempt to be conciliatory. His face now bore a stern expression that inspired far more confidence than his usual affability. Zevran decided this was a good sign.

Ahead of him, Kallian was stirring about restlessly and flexing her hands in a nervous tic. Leaning over in Leliana's direction, the Warden pitched her voice in a low whisper that just barely reached Zevran's ears.

"I told you the Dalish suck."

Leliana hid a smile. "Their hospitality could use some refinement."

Zevran was about to chime in when the flap of the tent lifted to reveal a tall figure with a mage's staff clasped in one hand. The Keeper for the tribe was bald as an egg and younger than Zevran would have expected. His handsome face was covered in extravagant tattoos that emphasized his already sharp features. Walking a few steps forward, the Keeper stopped and regarded them with hazel eyes that brimmed with a kind of hidden knowledge that only the wise could possess.

Alriote came up behind him and started to speak, but the Keeper held up a hand to silence him. Smiling gently at the entire group, he bowed his head in a formal greeting. "I bid you all welcome. My name is Zathrian, and I have the honor of acting as Keeper for my clan."

There was a small pause, and then Alistair motioned Kallian forward. "Thank you Keeper, my name is Alistair and this is Kallian. We are the last remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden."

A clamor of voices rose up from the crowd behind them only to be swiftly silenced by a single look from their Keeper. Nodding thoughtfully, Zathrian walked forward until there were only a few feet separating him from Kallian and Alistair.

"Well met indeed Wardens. I understand that we have you and your companions to thank for the safe return of Gerrand and Ellet. Their mother will be surely thank you once she has seen to her children's welfare. It was a great service you preformed, and I'm sorry you were treated so poorly for it."

The last comment was very obviously directed at Alriote. Flinching at his Keeper's displeasure, the elven warrior stared down at his feet in a fashion that reminded Zevran of Gerrand's apology to Kallian.

Alistair smiled warmly. "We were happy to help, and your warriors had more than enough reason to distrust outsiders considering what had happened. I'm just pleased that the children are back with their family. That's the most important thing."

"It is generous of you to say so." Zathrian lifted a hand to encompass the surrounding camp. "However, I think that it is time that you saw how the Dalish properly treat their friends. We will have a feast tonight to celebrate the return of the children and your act of kindness."

"We would be honored to attend." Alistair bowed his head formally. "And if it would please you, there is something I fear that I must ask of the Dalish. I'm sure you are aware of the Blight's progress, and I confess we did not come here with entirely selfless reasons."

"I had assumed as much. We can speak of such things over our meal. Until then, I invite you to partake in any of the comforts our camp can provide. I know you must be weary after your travels, so please allow me to provide hot baths and clean clothing to any who wish it."

"Thank you Zathrian, we appreciate your hospitality."

The Keeper nodded. "It is my pleasure. We very rarely have guests, but I'm certain that we will be very welcoming."

There was a subtle warning in his tone that seemed to be directed at the assembled elves. While few of the Dalish seemed very welcoming, the atmosphere of hostility had vanished during the exchange between Zathrian and Alistair. Zevran even saw a number of the elves nodding in approval as the Zathrian spoke.

Kallian spoke for the first time. "Do you have a craftsman in the camp? There's something I would like repaired."

"Yes, Master IIen would be more than happy…" The Keeper trailed off in midsentence as he turned to look at Kallian for the first time. Going as still as a statue, Zathrian stared down at her with eyes that had gone wide with an emotion that Zevran was all too familiar with.

It was fear.

An uncomfortable silence stretched over the pavilion as the seconds dragged by. Fidgeting under Zathrian's unblinking stare, Kallian glanced around in discomfort before folding her arms tightly across her chest.

"What?"

Zathrian blinked and seemed to shake himself. "Oh, forgive me. I seemed to have gotten lost in thought. You should speak with Master IIen. He is the finest craftsman I have ever known. Please, I ask that all of you come and make our guests feel welcome."

It seemed to signal the end of the Keeper's greeting. Slowly but surely, the Dalish clansmen broke off and approached with relatively friendly greetings. Based solely on the stares they were sending his way, the elves seemed to be particularly fascinated by Sten.

As the others gradually got caught up in conversations with the elves, Zevran kept his eyes on the Keeper. Zathrian was still keeping his gaze firmly locked on Kallian as she showed a damaged portion of her jacket to a silver-haired elf. He no longer seemed afraid, but his face was unmistakably troubled as he considered the Warden.

"So, thought of a hundred things yet?"

Zevran started and looked around to see Senna smiling at him. It took him a moment to recover. "A hundred and one, but I'd be far more interested in learning more about you. I'm certain a beautiful Dalish warrior has many fascinating tales to share."

"Only if you tell me more about this Antiva of yours."

"It sounds like a fair trade to me."

Senna smiled and motioned towards a few secluded wooden benches on the other side of camp. "Let's go over there; this place will start getting a little busy as they prepare for the feast."

"You'll hear no argument from me."

As Zevran let her lead him away, he cast one final glance over his shoulder. Zathrian had disappeared during his short conversation with Senna. Whatever it was he saw in Kallian, Zevran would make certain to keep an eye on the Keeper from this point onwards.

Provided it didn't interfere with keeping an eye on Senna.

...

xxXxx

* * *

I do believe I forgot to mention my wonderful beta-reader last chapter, and that is truly unforgivable. So, a big double-thank you to Kaidian for being generally awesome and making everything better.

As you may have noticed, I've chosen to completely disregard the Dalish portion of the game. Why you ask? Because fuck werewolves, that's why.

Anyway, thanks to all of you glorious reviewers out there. You are the good people, and I love reading the wonderful and helpful comments you've been providing. I just want to say that I really appreciate how great you all have been.

Things are gonna get a little Cold next chapter...


	24. All The Way Down

A/N: This chapter took a whole lot of revision so I'm going to thank Kaidian right off the bat for all the amazing beta work. I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 24: All The Way Down

-The Dalish Camp-

* * *

xxXxx

…

The Dalish had proven that, if nothing else, they certainly knew how to throw a good party.

Long wooden tables had been erected throughout the pavilion, and the entire scene was brightly lit by a plethora of torches. Spread out amongst the platters of meat and roasted vegetables, large flagons of summer wine and amber ale were available for anyone who wanted them. To complete the picture, a small troupe of musicians was playing a number of unusual stringed instruments to create a hauntingly beautiful melody.

As the Dalish evidently disdained chairs of any kind, the tables on which they were eating were set low to the ground. Earlier in the day, some of the younger children had been given the task of clearing the snow from the pavilion. Several large tarps had been spread over the forest floor in its place, and a number of impressive bonfires kept the area pleasantly warm. For the meal, everyone had simply gathered around the tables and knelt or sat directly on the ground. It had proved more comfortable than one would have expected.

Freshly bathed and dressed in the long-sleeved white shirt that Leliana had given her, Kallian sipped at her glass of wine as she stared at the festivities. When compared to the elves back in Denerim, the Dalish were incredibly open in their celebration. Parties in the Alienage had usually revolved around a barrel of cheap beer and a shared desire to avoid attracting the attention of the guards. Here though, the elves sang and danced with a kind of joyous abandon that left her feeling simultaneously disquieted and envious.

They _were _different than the elves of the Alienage. Kallian wouldn't hesitate to admit that the weakest among the Dalish were still vastly stronger than the best the Alienage could offer. Considering their reputation for pride and defiance, it was easy to see why so many young elves fled the Alienages to seek a better life within the forest.

Kallian had even considered doing that at one point. It was just after her mother had died, and she had been sick with grief and anger. Even now, she remembered the disgust she had felt when all of her friends and family had simply accepted the murder of one of their own as an unavoidable fact of life. Were it not for the fact that leaving would have meant deserting her father, Kallian would probably be living like this right now.

The idea did not hold as much appeal for her as it had when she was younger. Growing up in an Alienage had given her a great deal of perspective when it came to hardship. Her father had spent years working long hours at the docks just so that he could put food on the table. On his few days off, he would join Elder Valerian and some of the other adults at the weekly assemblies held in Denerim's main square. There, they would spend hours attempting to present legislation that would improve the quality of life for the city's elves. Though their progress was painfully slow and often thankless, they kept at it until a few minor concessions were allowed by the city officials just to shut them up.

That was what strength was in her eyes. It was dedicating yourself to something that seemed impossible because it could help people. Strength certainly wasn't running away to hide in a forest and pretend like the world's problems didn't exist. The Dalish may be living better than the Alienage elves, but their so-called defiance wasn't helping anybody but themselves. What was worse, they actually thought they were better than the city elves because of all their nonsense about elven tradition.

If she had to choose, Kallian would say that was the thing she truly disliked about these elves. Speaking a few words of Ancient Elvish and painting lines on their face did not entitle a people to be such colossal pricks. They were a haughty group of insular blowhards who congratulated themselves on their meaningless posturing. But all the harsh words and puffed-up chests in the world wouldn't save them if the shems ever decided to burn this spooky-ass forest to the ground.

Sure, they might be the strongest group of elves in Ferelden, but that was akin to being the cleanest whore on the dockside.

Kallian pulled a face at the thought and glance around in irritation. Oghren was already sloppily drunk, and Zevran had gone off with that Dalish girl shortly after the feast had begun. Though the others were a bit more restrained; everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves in their own ways. Alistair was deep in conversation with Zathrian, and Wynne was having an animated chat with an elderly elf who had earlier identified himself as the storyteller for the clan.

At a table to Kallian's left, Sten was in the process of eating an entire pig while a small group of children watched in awed silence. The Qunari had proven to be a source of endless fascination for the Dalish. Whether it was because of his size or simply because he was exotic, Sten had been forced to weather an endless stream of questions ever since they had arrived. Surprisingly, it seemed as though he was enjoying the extra attention.

Morrigan sat on Kallian's right with her spell book open on the table. Though she was picking at a selection of fruits as she read, it was clear that the witch was not particularly interested in participating in the feast. Amusingly enough, the young man sitting next to Morrigan had vainly tried to flirt with her for the better part of the meal. He had only given up after she had threatened to hex him until he was "a grotesque parody of anything that resembles intelligent life."

That had been shame really; watching the two of them had been the best part of the entire meal.

Kallian sighed and looked down at the food on her plate without appetite. She had never been one to turn down a meal before, but the thought of eating was oddly unappealing at the moment. She didn't even know why she was all out of sorts. It just felt like a general sense of malaise had been creeping over her ever since they had entered this place.

Someone's hand settled on her left shoulder. "You know, you are allowed to look happy at a feast."

Kallian lips curled up into a soft smile and she tilted her head up to face Leliana. Along with Alistair, Leliana had been one of the two people in their party to accept the Keeper's offer of fresh clothing. Over tight, doe-skin breeches, she wore a green shirt that was so long it brushed against her knees. Earlier in the evening, Leliana had allowed a veritable horde of Dalish children to weave an assortment of small flowers into her hair. In the orange glow of the torches and bonfires, the bard looked like a dryad who had gotten lost on her way to the local grotto.

"Ah see, that is much more like it." Leliana flashed Kallian a dazzling grin before settling down beside her in a graceful motion. "I was just thinking to myself that it is terrible thing to see the guest of honor look so glum. Especially considering how pretty she is when she is smiling."

"Maybe she was just waiting for something to smile about."

Leliana laughed in delight. "You're starting to sound like a bard. It must be my bad influence."

As casual as could be, Leliana reached over and tucked a lock of Kallian's hair behind her ear. It was the bard's favorite way to express affection, and it never failed to make Kallian's chest tighten up in reflex. Leliana had a special gift for turning an innocent gesture into something extraordinary. Shivering as Leliana's fingers ghosted along the tip of her ear, Kallian's eyelids fluttered close for a brief moment.

The bard's grin turned mischievous at whatever it was she saw in Kallian's expression. "Is that the summer wine you're having? I've heard nothing but high praise for it all night."

"It's nice, I guess. I think it's just way too sweet." Kallian offered her the cup without a second thought.

"I'm rather partial to a little sweetness at times." Leliana took a delicate sip without taking her eyes off Kallian. Setting the glass to one side, she reached over and gently laid a hand on Kallian's forearm. "Honestly though, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just not in the mood to be at a party."

Leliana tilted her head to one side. "I have felt the same way at times. Whenever things would get to overwhelming at the Orlesian Court, I would go to the gardens and walk about to clear my head. A little time alone can sometimes do wonders for one's state of mind."

"Maybe I'll take a walk later." Kallian flicked Leliana a suggestive look. "Want to come along?"

"Hmm, it certainly does sound tempting. We may have to wait a while however."

Kallian blinked. "Why's that?"

"For one thing, I've promised a very demanding group of children that I would sing them another song before the night is over." Leliana looked amused at the thought. "But more importantly, Alistair has asked me to pass along a message to you. He's been speaking with the Keeper and wishes to go over a few things whenever you get the chance."

Grimacing, Kallian looked to where Alistair and Zathrian were sitting. As though he had been waiting for her to glance over, Alistair caught her eye and waved invitingly with a wide smile. Internally groaning, Kallian set aside her mostly untouched meal and nodded at Leliana.

"I'll come find you when we are finished."

"Not if I find you first."

With a wink that promised a great deal, Leliana got to her feet and glided off in the direction of one of the larger fires. Kallian stood up with far more reluctance as she prepared herself for whatever boring conversation Alistair wanted her to be a part of. It was nice of him to try to include her in the decision making, but Kallian would have preferred it if he just handled all the diplomacy himself. She clearly had no head for it, and Alistair hadn't managed to get them killed as of yet.

Even so, she forced herself to wear what she hoped was a pleasant expression as she crossed the pavilion to join Alistair and Zathrian. The men welcomed her with smiles, and Alistair shifted to one side to give her some room at the table they were sharing.

Zathrian spoke before she had even finished sitting down. "Welcome, honored Warden. I trust you have found our hospitality to your liking?"

"S'okay." She shrugged.

"It's been a wonderful evening for all of us." Alistair spoke hurriedly after tossing Kallian a mildly exasperated look. "We really are quite flattered by the amount of effort you've put into making us feel welcome. It's a refreshing change of pace after the ways in which our other allies have received us."

Zathrian bobbed his head in gracious acceptance. "We only do what any self-respecting host would."

Kallian stared at the two of them and gamely suppressed the urge to sneer. Until this very moment, she had never understood why everyone always talked about how much they hated politicians. If this entire conversation turned out to be nothing more than meaningless prattle and compliments, she was going to stab someone.

After a brief pause, Alistair turned towards Kallian. "Zathrian and I have been discussing our collective response to the Blight. You'll be pleased to hear that the Dalish are perfectly willing to fight at our side. Zathrian has already offered to make the arrangements with the other clans."

"That will take some time, I'm afraid." Zathrian rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "The clans are spread out across the entire region and we do not interact with any frequency. I will have to send them summons by way of messenger bird in the morning. While I'm certain they will gladly lend aid, it may be several weeks before we can muster our full strength."

"That should work out nicely with our other plans. King Bhelen claims that he needs time to stabilize Orzammar before the dwarves can march to our banner." Alistair was rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "Considering we still have to help Arl Eamon, I feel as though a small delay will hardly be a problem."

Kallian thought that sounded reasonable. "How many soldiers can the Dalish provide?"

"It's difficult to say with certainty, but I would estimate the number to be between three and five hundred." Zathrian snapped his gaze in her direction with a suddenness that she found unsettling.

Though she tried not to show it, Kallian felt a sinking feeling at the Keeper's words. While even three hundred soldiers was nothing to sneeze at, she couldn't help but recall the vast hoard of Darkspawn they had seen in the depths of the Deep Road. There had been at least a thousand of the creatures, and everyone had said that was only a small fraction of the entire host. If that was the case, than Kallian couldn't see how they were going to stand a chance when the final battle finally arrived.

Zathrian seemed to pick up on her thoughts. "I'm aware that the number does not inspire great confidence; I fear our kind is somewhat diminished in this day and age. I can assure you however, that you will find no finer archers in all of Thedas. They will be the death of many Darkspawn when the time comes."

It sounded nice, but Kallian had long ago learned that nothing in this world was free. "What do we have to do in return for that help?"

Alistair sighed. "Kallian…"

"No, it's quite understandable." Zathrian gave Kallian a half-smile. "You may find this hard to believe, but our assistance is unconditional. In addition to the fact that we must abide by the ancient treaty, the other Keepers and I recognize the plight we face. While the Dalish have no interest in the petty squabbles of shemlen lords, we are very much aware that the Darkspawn will consume the entire land if they are not stopped. We willingly provide aid because you are our best chance at survival."

Kallian liked the fact that the Keeper was finally speaking plainly. She felt as though she had been wading through a sea of bullshit when the two of them had been speaking earlier. Now though, Zathrian had brought the conversation into a territory that she was very familiar with. This was about self-preservation.

"That sounds sensible to me. It will be good to have you with us." Kallian decided to try her hand at diplomacy for a change.

The Keeper lifted his glass. "Indeed, let us pray that fortunate favors us on the battlefield."

Alistair passed Kallian a small goblet of ale and the three of them all drank a quick toast. Now that the planning session was over, Kallian hoped that their conversation was over so that she could go and join up with Leliana. Before she could think of a good reason to excuse herself, Zathrian cleared his throat and turned to her.

"There is one more thing I wish to discuss with you. However, I would prefer it if we could address it later tonight. It is really not something that should be shared over a meal…or quite frankly, in public."

Kallian blinked at him. "Why, what is it?"

"As I said, now is hardly the time or the place for this particular subject." Zathrian avoided Kallian's eyes as he set his cup down. "Suffice to say, it is a matter that concerns you personally. I would greatly prefer it if we could meet privately in my tent one hours hence."

A prickle of unease crawled along Kallian's spine. Something about Zathrian rubbed her the wrong way and she didn't relish the idea of his company. "No offense, but I really don't see what the two of us have to talk about. Especially in private."

"I can assure you that you will want to hear what I have to say."

"Fine, but why not just say it here? Whatever it is, I doubt I'd mind if Alistair heard it as well."

Zathrian's brows drew together. "Perhaps, but I might. This is not something I discuss lightly and I'm afraid that I will only divulge it in private."

Kallian glanced over at Alistair to see that the human was frowning. It was obvious that Zathrian wasn't used to being questioned, and Kallian had a feeling that he was just throwing his weight around just for the hell of it. Shrugging at Alistair, Kallian folded her arms and locked eyes with Zathrian.

"That doesn't work for me."

For a moment, Zathrian's calm demeanor pulled back to reveal an undercurrent of anger. "This is not a matter in which you have a choice. Ignoring me would be terribly unwise."

"Actually, I believe she does have a choice." Alistair voice was soft, but his eyes were cold as he stared at the Keeper. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say that sounded suspiciously like a threat. This alliance of ours is crucial to the survival of both of our peoples. Let's not jeopardize that with harsh words."

Zathrian's mask of composure snapped back into place. "If a threat was perceived, than I assure you it was unintentional. I was merely attempting to impart the gravity of the situation. What your fellow Warden fails to understand is that this is a matter of life and death. Discussing it in the midst of so many ears is imprudent."

"Fine, then we can talk in your tent." Kallian feelings of unease intensified. "But only if Alistair is there as well."

For a moment, the Keeper looked as though he was fighting the urge to say something unpleasant. She hadn't meant to make him angry, but Zathrian was acting too suspicious for her to be comfortable. If he wasn't going to be forthcoming in public, than she sure as hell wasn't going to meet him without some backup.

Finally, Zathrian let out a breath and glared at her. "Very well. Meet me at my tent in an hour's time and I will speak with the both of you. Enjoy the rest of the feast."

With a curt nod, the Keeper stood up and excused himself without another word. Watching as he stalked away, Kallian chewed at her lower lip and tried to figure out what a Dalish Keeper would want with her. Given her luck, it was probably something bad. Either way, she was glad that she wouldn't have to face him alone.

"You have any idea what this is all about?" Alistair spoke drily from beside her.

"Nope, it could be anything."

Alistair let out a breath. "And here I was thinking that this was all going just a little too easily."

...

xxXxx

…

The Keeper's tent was surprisingly empty for how big it was. Aside from a small hammock set against one side, the entire space was bereft of any furniture. Zathrian had similarly neglected to decorate his quarters save for the large statue that sat in the middle of the tent. Formed of metal that had long since been corroded by rust, the bizarre ornament resembled a gaunt figure with unnaturally long fingers and a smile that seemed too wide for its face. Most disconcerting of all, it was dragging a corpse behind it with one hand.

"Well, this is creepy."

Kallian nodded in agreement with Alistair's assessment. If Zathrian had been trying to set them on edge, he had succeeded spectacularly. Nervously noting that the statue's eyes seemed to follow her as she paced about, Kallian wondered when Zathrian was planning on showing up. It struck her as a little rude that he would demand they meet him and then keep them waiting.

She had spent the last hour trying to figure out why Zathrian wanted to speak to her. The speculation had mostly served to make her antsy, and she hadn't even been able to come up with anything concrete. The best she had managed to come up with was that he might have an interest in speaking with the last elven Warden in the country. It was an understandable political maneuver, and Alistair had already warned her against promising the Keeper anything during this conversation.

"Maybe he wants to offer you a place among the Dalish." Alistair gave her a reassuring smile. "You couldn't accept of course, but it would be nice to have him offer."

Kallian snorted. "I doubt it. My impression is that he doesn't like me much. Did you see the way he glared at me when I told him to sod off?"

"You do have a way with people."

"He was asking for it. This whole mysterious act is seven different kinds of irritating." Kallian stopped pacing and tossed her hands up in the air. "I mean seriously, who tells someone that they have to talk about a big personal secret and then makes them wait an hour to hear it? That's practically torture."

Alistair shrugged. "It must be important if he was willing to go to all this trouble. We'll just have to wait and see what he has to say."

As if in response to his words, the flap of the tent lifted up to admit the Keeper inside. Nodding gravely at the two of them, Zathrian walked over to join them in the center of the tent. Once he stood between them, he gestured to the bare dirt at their feet.

"Please, take a seat anywhere you would like. We have much to discuss."

Exchanging a look with Alistair, Kallian lowered herself down to sit cross-legged on the dirt. Alistair soon followed her example, and Zathrian moved to sit where he could face the both of them at once. Straightening out his robe, the Keeper shifted about for a moment before turning his attention towards them. Rather than speak, he merely stared at Kallian with an odd expression on his tattooed face.

She grew impatient after only a few seconds of the silence. "What's this about?"

"It is remarkable how much you resemble your mother." Zathrian cocked his head to the side and peered at her as though she were a puzzle to be solved. "The same face, the same eyes...it's really quite uncanny."

Kallian was briefly thrown by the abrupt statement. "I take it you knew my mother."

"It would be more accurate to say that I was acquainted with her. I briefly stayed with her clan and spoke with her several times. We were hardly close, but she was the type of person who left an impression. I recognized you for her blood the moment I laid eyes on you."

"People always said we looked alike. Father used to tell me that I was blessed to get her looks instead of his." In spite of herself, Kallian felt a warm glow of pride at the Keeper's words. Six years after her mother's death and she still liked it when people commented on the resemblance.

Zathrian nodded. "The only real difference is the way you carry yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"Adaia was a child of the forest in the truest sense. She held herself like an ancient oak that could never be bent or toppled by the world around her. You however, are a product of the shemlen cities. The weight of your experience has left you twisted and withered."

That stung. "What the fuck do you know about my experience?"

Zathrian held up a hand to pacify her. "No offense was meant, Warden. It is simply a distinction that factors heavily into what I am about to share with you. On that note, I have a question of some importance. Did your mother ever happen to mention the _Fuar'Fuil_?"

"Err…no." Kallian frowned at the unfamiliar words. "At least, I don't think that she did."

"I see," Zathrian closed his eyes before slowly opening them. "That was unjust of her. Whatever her feelings may have been, it was her responsibility to teach you about such things. The amount of damage her neglect has caused is tremendous."

Kallian's eyes narrowed. "My mother was good to me."

"I have no doubt that she was. However, that does not change the fact she failed in this regard." Zathrian pursed his lips into a thin line. "I suppose the task falls to me. So then, have you ever killed someone and had no memory of doing so?"

Beside her, Alistair suddenly straightened up in interest. Prior to this point, he had been watching the proceedings with a carefully neutral expression. Though Kallian couldn't blame him for his sudden enthusiasm, she would have preferred it if he had not reacted. There was no way to know why Zathrian wanted to know about her past, and she had made it a rule to never tell anyone more than she absolutely had to. There wasn't much point in trying to conceal anything now, so Kallian simply pretended like it didn't matter.

"Yes, twice."

Zathrian sucked in a sharp breath. "Only twice…are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Why are you asking? Do you know something about it?"

He did know. Kallian could read it in his eyes as easily as if it were printed on his forehead. A hot thrill of anticipation raced down the back of her neck as she watched the Dalish elf closely. Though she had been preoccupied by all that had happened in recent months, the question of her murderous episodes back in Lothering and Denerim had lurked at the corners of her mind for some time now. If Zathrian knew what they were, she wouldn't leave this tent without answers.

"Oh yes, I know quite a lot about it." Zathrian chuckled humorlessly. "I daresay that this is one thing on which you might call me an expert. If your mother never spoke to you of the _Fuar'Fuil_,than I would imagine you to be rather curious regarding the nature of your condition."

Kallian nodded. "That's right."

Zathrian inclined his head in what could have been acquiescence. After a few moments of apparent deliberation, he began speaking in a weary voice. "Before I begin, you must promise me one thing. Promise that you will not ask how I know of these things. That is the one subject on which I will refuse to elaborate."

Alistair frowned slightly and looked over at Kallian. Meeting his eyes for a brief moment, Kallian mentally shrugged. "Weird. But alright, we won't ask you about that."

Zathrian blinked at her slowly. "Well then, to understand what is happening to you, I must provide a little context from the history of our people. I know that the elves of the Alienage have lost much of the old knowledge, but I would assume that you are at least familiar with the events that led to the fall of the Dales."

Settling back into a more comfortable position, Kallian pulled a dagger out of her boot and began to spin it between her fingers. "Everyone knows that story. The elves tried to isolate themselves from the shems and the Tevinter Imperium took it badly. There was a war and we lost it."

"That is an extremely simplified explanation, but it is also essentially accurate. The Tevinter misinterpreted our withdrawal as a sign of aggression and launched a campaign to subjugate the elven people. Despite the fact that we resisted their efforts, we were eventually overwhelmed. Do you know why?"

Surprisingly, it was Alistair who answered the question. "Now, I slept through some of my history lessons, but I seem to recall that there were several reasons. The Tevinter army contained both cavalry and armored foot soldiers. In addition, Tevinter military strategy was more developed when it came to open-field engagements. Sure, the elves proved successful in a variety of smaller skirmishes, but they failed to win any of the major battles due to their numeric and technological disadvantages."

Zathrian gave him a sour look. "A story told from the shemlen's perspective. The Tevinter warriors were indeed numerous and covered in armor, but that was not the reason we faltered."

"Then what was?" Alistair sounded genuinely curious.

"Our restraint." Zathrian made an encompassing gesture. "The so-called Magisters of the Imperium tore open the Fade to bind demons to their will. They preformed terrible blood magics and unleashed powers that have no place on this mortal coil. We could have done the same to drive them from our land, but we chose to preserve our honor."

He looked down. "For a time, at least. A year into the war, the Keepers of the Twelve Clans came together to discuss the few remaining options left available to them. The armies of our ancestors had been overwhelmed at every turn and the enemy seemed limitless in number. Faced with genocide or enslavement, they reacted out of desperation."

"The Keepers reached deep into the Fade to find the places that even the Magisters dared not tread. It was in these forbidden places that they encountered a being that was already very old when this world was still being shaped. He was Formorie: the one who lives in darkness."

At this, Zathrian turned and swept a hand in the direction of the statue behind him. Glancing up at the horrid smile that stretched across the thing's face, Kallian barely suppressed the urge to shudder. Though it had to be nothing more than her active imagination, Kallian could have sworn the shadows in the tent grew longer at the Keeper's words.

She looked away hurriedly. "This wasn't in the versions I've heard."

"There are good reasons for that. Few know the true story of the Twelve Keepers, and those that do keep it to themselves." Zathrian spoke bitterly, as if this somehow disgusted him. "It is one of those rare things that are better left forgotten."

Alistair made a noise of consideration. "So, what did the Keepers do when they ran into this 'Formorie'?"

"They entered into a bargain. As with all denizens of the Fade, Formorie was incapable of manifesting in our world without aid. In return for the Keepers' assistance in providing him passage, he promised to make the elvish warriors unparalleled upon the battlefield. The Keepers agreed, on the condition that he would fulfill his portion of the bargain first.

"After the pact was sealed, Formorie preformed a piece of archaic magic on the Dalish clans. Twelve warriors from each of the twelve clans were imbued with a tremendous capacity for destruction. These one hundred and forty-four men and women adopted the title _Fuar'Fuil_ and became the weapons we so desperately needed. Entering a terrifying state of bloodlust, a single _Fuar'Fuil_ was equal to a hundred ordinary men. They were truly peerless, and the shemlen fell before them like children to a plague. For the first time since the war had begun, the tide began to turn in our favor."

As he paused for a brief moment, Kallian found herself getting drawn into the Keeper's story. Zathrian had a great speaking voice that proved captivatingly emotive. Leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, she cupped her face in her palms and smiled as she remembered doing the same thing whenever Elder Valerian had told his tales.

"With his end of bargain completed, Formorie demanded that the Keepers open a doorway to allow him to escape the Fade. Knowing that releasing such an entity upon the world was tantamount to suicide, the Twelve Keepers conspired to betray their benefactor. Under the pretense of fulfilling their promise, they tricked Formorie into lowering his defenses long enough to provide them with an opportunity. Binding him with their magic, the Twelve Keepers confined him to his plane of existence before withdrawing from the Fade entirely. Though his rage was terrible, it appeared as though Formorie had been beaten."

Kallian lifted a brow. "I'm guessing that he wasn't."

"No, indeed he was not." Zathrian gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Formorie was not able to reclaim the gift he had given, but his considerable power allowed him to twist it into a dreadful curse. By the time the Keepers realized what he had done, it was far too late for them to react."

"The _Fuar'Fuil _began changing. Though they still fought and killed the shemlen, it became clear that they were losing control on a catastrophic scale. Soon after Formorie's betrayal, the first of them fell into a bloodlust and never came back. He slaughtered an entire half-company of Tevinter soldiers before turning his blade on his own comrades. Archers were forced to kill him from a distance as none could reach him in his madness. Sadly, he was but the harbinger for what was to come. All across the Twelve Clans, the _Fuir'Fuil_ began to turn on their friends and loved ones. A fit of rage or similar emotional strife was enough to trigger the frenzied states that had once been contained to the battlefield. Worse yet, the encroaching madness proved to be degenerative. Even if the _Fuar'Fuil_ could be calmed one occasion, their restraint became irrevocably weakened with each successive episode."

Alistair shifted and spoke up in a soft murmur. "They got worse?"

"Yes, the episodes grew longer and more frequent every time they succumbed to the bloodlust." The Keeper looked at Kallian for a moment. "Additionally, they began to speak of unusual things. Many recalled an ambiguous presence in the dreams that promised to protect them. Others claimed to hear odd music that would command them to kill their 'enemies'. Though most of them suffered from encompassing amnesia, all of them spoke of being cold."

Kallian lifted her head out of her hands and stared back at Zathrian. Up until this point, she had been prepared to dismiss this story as nothing more than a legend. It had vaguely resembled her own experiences, but she had been inclined to think it a simple coincidence. But, if there was one thing she remembered from her chaotic dreams, it was the Cold.

She shivered and rubbed her hands along her upper arms. "What happened to them all?"

"Most of them were quickly lost to their sickness and had to be killed for the safety of all. Not only we deprived of their strength in battle, but the damage the _Fuar'Fuil _wrecked amongst the Twelve Clans left us even weaker than we were before. Within of few months of their disappearance, the Dales had fallen to the Tevinter armies. Before long, the overwhelming majority of our people were either dead, or suffering under the whip of a slave master. The Magisters spent considerable resources attempting to hunt down the 'elvish berserkers' who had inflicted such damage upon their armies."

Zathrian fell silent after that, and the tent seemed unnaturally quiet in the wake of his story. The Dalish Keeper was staring at the floor of his tent with a far away expression on his face. Feeling anxious as she processed all the possible implications of what she had just heard, Kallian was grateful when Alistair asked the question that was on the tip of her tongue.

"I imagine you us that because you believe Kallian is one of these 'Fooer-Fwell' people?" Alistair was looking more than a little uncomfortable as he spoke. "Wouldn't that be a little impossible? I mean, there's no way she's a thousand years old."

Kallian relaxed fractionally. "No shit, I just barely turned nineteen."

"When the Dales fell, not all of the _Fuar'Fuil_ perished. Some of them managed to escape the reach of the Imperium and made new lives for themselves in the far corners of the world." Zathrian eyes were oddly gentle as he watched Kallian. "I'd say that perhaps the survivors numbered two-score at the very most. While all of them eventually succumbed to the insanity that had taken their fellows, many lived long enough to start families. Centuries have buried most of their children, but there are a few of the bloodlines remaining to this day."

"So, I'm…?" Kallian waved a hand helplessly.

"A descendent of one of the original_ Fuar'Fuil_," Zathrian nodded grimly. "Cursed from the very moment you took life."

Alistair cleared his throat. "How is that even possible? I mean, these people were going crazy and killing everyone, shouldn't they have been taken care of centuries ago? Not to argue with you, but this seems like something that would be more widely known."

"The curse proved to be latent. Most of the subsequent generations were entirely unaware of what they were capable of. All it took was a moment of intense physical or mental anguish to awaken Formorie's gift." Zathrian sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Whenever an episode did occur, the elf in question was usually put to death after being dismissed as a murderous lunatic. To my knowledge, only a few individuals were ever able to draw any connection between the infrequent and widespread occurrences."

Kallian was feeling a little lightheaded. "How many are left?"

"Including yourself, I know of four living descendents. One of whom is living right here in this clan. He's an apprentice craftsman to Master IIen, and has no idea what runs in his bloodline. As for the others, one is rotting in Antivan prison and the other took to exile many years ago. I do not know what became of her."

This was all just a little too much for Kallian to take in all at once. While one part of her was relived to finally know what was wrong with her, the larger part of her brain was devoted to silently screaming in panic. She could have handled being garden-variety crazy, but this 'ancient demon' bullshit was on an entirely different level.

She lifted a hand to the side of her hand as if to stabilize herself. "And my mother? Was she like me?"

"Of course," Zathrian nodded brusquely. "I attempted to council her during the brief time we were acquainted. I fear that she did not much care for my assistance. Considering how much she knew about her history, I was surprised to learn that she never spoke of it to you. Perhaps she was just waiting for the appropriate time."

Kallian doubted that. Her mother had been many things, but she had never been one to coddle. Kallian's earliest memory from her childhood was of her mother teaching her how to conceal a knife in the folds of her clothing. If Adaia hadn't wanted her to know about this, then there had to have been a very good reason.

Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder and she resisted the urge to shrug it off. "This has been very interesting Keeper, but I'd think we need to know what we can do to keep this from happening. What is the best way to help Kallian?"

"That is a difficult question." Zathrian measured each word carefully. "You have to understand, this curse is not something that can be lifted or even controlled. When it was awoken inside of you, something unspeakable was created. It is almost as if there is a separate version of your soul that is devoid of mercy or any emotion that is worth having. For the majority of the time, this parody of your being resides in the depths of the fade where it is no danger to anyone. However, when you enter the frenzied state, it effectively switches places with your consciousness in order to kill more effectively. Part of why the _Fuar'Fuil _are so fearsome is their complete detachment from either pain or fear."

Kallian frowned. "Right, that's all well and good, but how do I stop it?"

"Forgive me; I'm not explaining this as well as I should." Zathrian voice took on a soothing quality. "Now that it has begun, there is no way to reverse the process. Regardless of what you do from this point forward, the separate aspect of your being will gradually eclipse your mind. When that process is complete, your soul will be effectively consumed and you will become a terrible threat to everyone and everything you meet."

A tingling rush pounded its way through Kallian's head as she took in the Keeper's words. Dimly aware that Alistair was squeezing her shoulder in a comforting fashion, Kallian had a notion that the tent was suddenly much smaller than it had been a moment ago. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she finally managed to croak out the one question that was truly important.

"H-How…how long?"

"There is no way for me to be exact, child. Based solely on my own experiences with such things, I would say that two years would be a generous estimation. That time will be significantly shorter if you enter into these episodes with any frequency. To be plainly honest, you could very well fall into permanent insanity the next time the curse overtakes you."

Two years…

Kallian swallowed in an attempt to wet her suddenly dry throat. Shaking her head in a kind of mindless denial, she jerked away from Alistair's hold and stood up quickly. Pacing back and forth, she turned back to face the Keeper as something occurred to her.

"Wait…my mother lasted a whole hell of lot longer than two years."

Zathrian gave her a sad smile. "Adaia was one of the most composed and disciplined people I have ever met. She kept her emotions carefully suppressed and worked with her Keeper on an almost daily basis in order to suppress her curse's progression. When I last saw her, I could only barely see the presence of the curse within her aura despite the fact that she had fallen into bloodlust on multiple occasions."

Kallian chuckled, a sound that was bitterly painful even to her own ears. "But I'm not my mother, am I?

"No, I fear that you are not." Zathrian lowered his eyes to the ground. "You are significantly less stable than she was. I was surprised to hear that you had only lapsed twice as your aura is practically choked by the curse's presence. All the _Fuar'Fuil _succumb eventually, however you have deteriorated to an alarming degree. That are a myriad of possible explanations for that, but I would hazard to say that your lifestyle is the probable cause. Acting as a Grey Warden in these times must be an immensely stressful existence. Such things progress the curse and most the _Fuar'Fuil_ are forced to abandon the aspects of their life that place them at risk. By way of instance, even your mother left the man she loved because his life was leading her into dangerous scenarios."

"She never left my father." Kallian spoke quietly. "Guards killed her back in Denerim. That wasn't her choice."

Zathrian waved a hand about in a distracted manner. "No, not the Flat-Ears she married. I'm speaking of that Grey Warden of hers…Duncan or whatever his name was."

Kallian slowly sank back down to the floor of the tent. Ignoring the wide-eyed stare Alistair was sending her way, she took a few moments and went through the breathing exercises Wynne had taught her. As she slowly measured each breath, she did her absolutely best to organize her scattered thoughts. This was overwhelming to say the least.

Speaking carefully, she fought to keep her voice even. "My mother…was with Duncan…and then left to live with my father."

"That was my understanding."

"Fucking hell."

A thick silence engulfed the tent in a fashion as Kallian glared down at the dirt in front of her. Zathrian waited a few moments before clearing his throat. "I apologize if this was not known to you. It was not my intention to burden you with such things in the wake of our conversation."

"She never said anything. Duncan may have hinted but…" Kallian stopped and shook her head clear. "Shit, none of that matters right now. There has to be a way to stop this. I'm not going to go lose my mind and kill everyone. There _has_ to be a way to keep that from happening."

"There have been hundreds like you over the years. They were as different from one another as any group of people can be, but each of them succumbed once the curse had manifested itself in their mind." Zathrian spoke firmly. "I did not tell you all this to help you before it was too late. I told you because you and your companions need to prepare for an inevitable eventuality. The path your life will take has already been decided for you. It is merely a question of what you will do with the time you have left."

Hot anger suddenly flooded her veins and she glared back at Zathrian. "You're wrong."

Zathrian didn't respond in any direct way. Instead, he simply gazed back at her with an expression of calm sympathy that made her want to scream. Slowly rising from his seat, the Dalish Keeper gave her and Alistair a small bow. "I've given you both a great deal to think about. I fear however, that there are things that will require my attention for the rest of the evening. If you wish to discuss anything I have said in greater detail, I would welcome you to return tomorrow. I can also provide some literature that you may find useful in dealing with your circumstances."

Kallian wanted to tell him where he could stuff his literature, but Alistair had already slid back into his diplomat voice. "Thank you, Keeper. This is all a bit much to take in, but I assure you that we will come back after we've had some time to process what you've told us."

"See that you do. A single conversation is hardly sufficient for matter such as this."

Boiling with frustration and other emotions that she couldn't quite bring herself to identify, Kallian could only clench her fists impotently as the Keeper bowed to them once more. Without waiting for Alistair to say his farewells, Kallian turned around and made for the flap of the tent. She didn't know where to go or what to do, but she knew that she couldn't spend another minute is this place.

Before she could go more than a few steps, Zathrian's voice halted her. "Warden, may I say one final thing?"

"What?" Kallian looked back at him over her shoulder.

"If you were in my clan, I would isolate you and attempt to minimize the threat you present to others." Zathrian folded his arms behind his back. "As you are not, I can only offer you the best piece of advice I can give to one in your position."

Kallian narrowed her eyes. "And that is?"

"Use what you are to save this land." Zathrian's mouth tightened into a thin line. "And after the fighting has finished, seek your own death in whichever manner seems the most suitable. It is not a kind fate, but I can assure you that it is far better than the alternative."

She wanted to say something withering in response. To say the one thing that would make him feel a fraction of what she was feeling at the moment. Nothing came to mind however, so she forced herself to keep walking until she had left his tent far behind. Wanting desperately to be alone, she just kept moving in the hopes that she'd eventually leave everyone else behind her.

Zathrian was wrong. He had to be.

...

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Thanks so much for reading and I hope that you all will consider leaving a review!


	25. Conversation 16

Chapter 25- Conversation 16

-The Brecilian Forest-

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…

Leliana was hunting.

In spite of the fact that the moon had already begun its waning period, she could see clearly thanks to the light that was reflected off the snowfall that covered the forest floor. Moving through this wintry twilight with calm, measured steps, she kept her eyes trained on the faint trail her quarry had left.

She did not have much experience when it came to moving quietly across snow, but she was pleased to discover that it was easier than she would have expected. So long as she took care to distribute her weight evenly with each step, Leliana had found that her footfalls made next to no sound. As an added bonus, the layer of snow served to cover up the small twigs and leaves that would have crunched underfoot as she passed over them. A small advantage perhaps, but she would need all the help she could get in this particular hunt.

A flicker of movement up ahead made her pause in mid-step. Grinning in anticipation as she finally caught sight of her quarry, Leliana resumed her cautious movement as she navigated between the thick tree trunks. Too many novice trackers thought that stalking a target meant darting between places of cover to avoid being seen. In truth, a good predator knew that patience and deliberate movement were a hunter's best friends. It may take a little longer, but her method was far less likely to spook the one being followed.

Pushing down her excitement, Leliana forced herself to take her time as she followed her quarry along the uneven terrain of the forest. Luckily, it seemed as though her target was not even the slightest bit aware of Leliana's presence. She wasn't willing to assume victory however, and took extra care as she gradually closed the distance between herself and her prey.

Some five minutes later, her target finally came to a halt beside a pool that had long since frozen over. In contrast to the white snow that surrounded it, the pool was like a great black mirror inset into the center of the small grove. Noting that her quarry was facing away from her, Leliana carefully sidled out from behind a tree trunk and began to inch her way towards the bank of the frozen pool.

This was the most delicate portion of the hunt. There was no way to remain hidden, so she had to be as silent as a shadow and pray that her target wouldn't turn around at the wrong time. Scarcely daring to draw breath, she crept forward in a low crouch. Every muscle in her body was pulled taut with tension as she \ prepared herself to pounce when the moment was right.

She was no more than ten feet away when her quarry abruptly turned and looked back at her.

"Not bad."

Leliana blinked in surprise. Feeling profoundly disappointed, she slowly straightened up and gave Kallian a mock glare. "How is it that you always know? I'm certain that I didn't make a single sound!"

"You didn't." Kallian's eyes glittered in the moonlight. "But, you were standing upwind from me the entire time."

"….You smelled me?"

The elf turned away to look over the frozen pond. "It's a nice smell."

"Well, thank the Maker for that at least." Leliana walked forward to stand beside Kallian. Glancing over at the elf, she realized that Kallian was wearing neither her cloak nor her jacket. "It's colder than the grave tonight. Aren't you freezing?"

Kallian looked at her before glancing down to study herself. "I guess."

There was something decidedly wrong about the way she was speaking. Kallian's raspy voice was not exactly emotive at the best of times, but something about her inflection gave Leliana pause. Turning to face the elf directly, Leliana tried to make out Kallian's expression in the faint lighting.

"You're not still upset about the feast are you? I'll admit that the wine was a little too sweet, but this seems like a strong reaction."

It was an admittedly feeble joke, but she had expected it to produce some form of reaction. Maybe not a laugh necessarily, but Kallian was usually ready with a wry smile and a clever comment. This time however, the elf simply gave a distracted nod without even glancing in Leliana's direction.

"No…I've just had a really fucked up night." Kallian let out a long and shaky breath. Turning towards Leliana, her voice came out in bare whisper. "I don't think I'm handling it well."

Concerned, Leliana stepped closer and placed a hand on Kallian's upper arm. "There is no shame in that. Is it something you wish to talk about?"

"Maybe," Kallian's shoulders slumped in what looked to be exhaustion. "But, I don't have any idea where to even begin. Ever since I left the Keeper's tent, I've barely been able to think straight. Hell, I don't even why I thought that coming out here was a good idea."

"Why don't you try to start from the very beginning? We can go from there."

Kallian looked down at the ground and shifted about from foot to foot for nearly half of a minute. When she finally started speaking, her voice was hesitant. "Alright…you remember the day we met?"

"Of course I do."

"Before we met in that tavern, I killed eight highwaymen in under a minute." Kallian said this without any real emotion. "And I don't remember doing it."

Leliana wished she could see Kallian's face more clearly. Forcing herself to avoid peppering the elf with questions, Leliana nodded calmly. "Do you mean to say that you've somehow blocked the memory? I've heard it said that the mind defends itself against painful occurrences. My own memory grows hazy when it comes to some of the harder parts of my life."

"No, this wasn't like that at all. I remember talking to these thugs on the highway, and then the next thing I knew I was standing in the middle of a river an hour later. Alistair and Morrigan had to tell me what I had done. I don't remember any of it; it's like there's nothing but a big, black void where that hour should be."

"Eight men?" Leliana frowned slightly. Kallian was quick and deadly with her knife, but even a master swordsman would be hard pressed to engage eight opponents at once. She didn't think Kallian was lying to her, but the idea seemed impossible.

"That's what they told me." Kallian stepped away from Leliana's hand and walked to the very edge of the frozen pool. "A few weeks before that, I killed four men while I was still living in Denerim. It was pretty much the same story. I blacked out and woke up covered in blood."

Leliana watched the elf in silence as she slowly considered what she had been told. A small part of her was slightly hurt that Kallian had waited this long to speak of this, but the more rational parts of her mind understood the need for discretion. Admitting that one had unconsciously killed that many people must be terrifying in many regards. If Leliana were in Kallian's position, she might also be inclined to avoid thinking or speaking of such things.

Still, that prompted a rather important question. Moving up to close the distance between them once again, Leliana made a special effort to speak in soothing tones. "I imagine that must weigh heavily on you. If I may ask though, why bring it up tonight of all nights?"

"I spoke with Keeper Zathrian. He said that my mom was crazy….that a bunch of other elves have been going crazy for thousands of years." Kallian's voice cracked and she folded her arms tightly across her chest. "And that…ah, that I'm going to go crazy too."

A rush of pity filled Leliana's chest as she realized what this was about. Raising her hands, she gently took hold of Kallian's shoulders and turned her so that they were face to face. "That is absolutely ridiculous."

"No, it's not." Kallian turned her head away to stare at the ground. "He said that there is this ancient curse that makes some of the elves insane. It's been going on for hundreds of years and my mom had it also. I didn't believe at first either, but he pretty much described what happened to me."

"Kallian, simply because he said you are cursed does not make it so."

"I know that!" Kallian sounded angry as she looked back up at Leliana. "But he was talking about all the things that I've experienced! It was too accurate for it to just be a stupid coincidence. I get that this sounds insane, but who's to say that it isn't some ancient demon curse?"'

Leliana made a pacifying gesture. "I'm not trying to discount anything. All I want you to consider is that are hundreds of possible explanations for what happened to you. Though I would not presume to rule out ancient demon curses, I'm prepared to say that there are plenty of more likely scenarios."

"But all the things he mentioned fit." Kallian shifted about restlessly. "There was no way he was just guessing."

"Have you ever heard of the Saint's Spring? It's this little pond in Southern Orlais that is famous for the healing qualities its water is said to possess. If you listen to the pilgrims that flock there every fall, you'd hear about how the waters were once sanctified by a single drop of Andraste's blood."

"Ok, what's your point?"

"My point is that no one mentions the massive amount of Elfroot that grows along the pond's edge. When those leaves fall into the spring, the water becomes suffused with the plant's properties. As you might guess, drinking that water has many health benefits."

Kallian grumbled something unintelligible before turning away. "This is different."

"I don't think that it is, necessarily. While stories often have an element of truth to them, the details are always embellished over time."

"Alright, but that doesn't make this any better." Kallian voice was filled with an emotion that Leliana couldn't quiet identify. "Even if the demon part isn't true, Zathrian still said that everyone who was like me went completely crazy at one point or another."

Leliana smiled. "He seems a little young to have met every elf in a thousand years."

"But….."

Kallian trailed off into silence and Leliana gave her a few moments to think it over. She wished she could have been there when that blowhard Keeper had been filling Kallian's head with all of this nonsense. It was one thing to preserve a legend; it was another to make a person doubt themselves to this degree.

When Kallian finally did speak, she sounded a little steadier. "So, what else could it be?"

Understanding that the elf was looking for reassurance, Leliana gently squeezed Kallian's shoulders and tried to sound as comforting as possible. "Wynne is probably better equipped to answer that question. If I were to take a guess however, I'd say that it is just an elven trait that needed explanation many years ago. People were confused and frightened, and they found it difficult to live with something unknown. By giving it a history and a cause, they assumed a kind of a mastery over it. Thus, it became the work of demons rather than an unexplainable occurrence."

"What about the whole 'everyone goes crazy part?' That seems pretty clear."

Leliana shrugged. "As a storyteller, I can safely say that the details of an event tend to grow more fantastic the more times it is retold. A few elves went wild in the very beginning, and suddenly the demon curse became a guarantee of madness. I suspect that Zathrian truly believes this tale because it is part of his cultural understanding. But the elves lost all written records of their history centuries ago. He's relaying accounts that have probably passed through countless people before they reached his ears."

"I didn't even think about that, but you're right." Kallian let out a long breath. "For fuck's sake, I'm acting like a frightened child. My mother had this same thing and she never once seemed worse for the wear. Zathrian just muttered some bullshit about 'auras' when I asked him about her."

Leliana nodded in agreement. "I'm certain he means well, but I'd feel more confident speaking with Wynne about this matter. I don't think I've ever met anyone who knows as much as she does, and I'm confident that her explanation will be much more satisfying."

"You know," Kallian gave a dry laugh. "You're starting to sound like Morrigan. All facts and hard answers…"

"I'll overlook that comment in light of the circumstances."

Kallian made another amused sound before stepping closer and throwing her arms around Leliana in a tight embrace. Happily retuning the gesture with a small smile, Leliana stroked Kallian's hair with one hand as the elf rested her head against Leliana's breast. In spite of the nature of their conversation, Leliana could not help but feel a profound sense of peace as they stood in the silent forest. The future might hold all manner of misfortune, but it was hard to dwell on such matters when the only thing she could hear was the gentle sighs of Kallian's breathing.

"What happens if he's right though?" Kallian spoke without lifting her head. "What if I'm going to lose my mind no matter what I do?"

Leliana sighed. "Then we will deal with it just like we've dealt with everything else. You have to remember, we've talked to a golem that was once a dwarf, and cleansed a magic tower full of demons. At the moment, we are preparing to search for the blessed ashes of the Prophet Andraste herself. I'd say that we have a good deal of experience when it comes to dealing with the impossible."

Kallian was quiet for a moment. When she finally spoke, she sounded like herself again. "I guess you have a point. Thanks, Leliana."

"Think nothing of it. We all need a little perspective sometimes."

The elf nodded her head; a motion that Leliana found distracting given their current position. Doing her best to ignore the flicker of desire that rose up inside her chest, she tried to direct her thoughts in a more appropriate direction. There was a time and place for such things, and common sense would dictate that now was not that time.

Kallian lifted her head and stared up at Leliana. "Do you want to know what else the Keeper told me?"

"What's that?"

"Apparently, the guy who made me into a Grey Warden used to sleep with my mum."

"…"

"…"

Something about Kallian's tone of voice and the awkwardness of the statement proved too much for Leliana. Before she could help it, a small peal of laughter burst out of her chest and rang through the small grove to shatter the peaceful silence. Clapping a hand to her mouth in mortification, she blushed as she met Kallian's gaze. "Oh Maker…that's not funny at all."

"I can't believe," Kallian's teeth glimmered in the moonlight. "That you just laughed at that."

"I'm very sorry! It's just that you sounded so baffled!"

Kallian barked out a laugh. "If you thought I was bad, you should have seen Alistair when Zathrian dropped that in the middle of everything."

"Oh no! This is Duncan we're talking about?"

"Yep," The elf sounded oddly elated. "He looked like a child that had just learned that griffons aren't real!"

And just like that, the two of them somehow ended up erupting into hysterical laughter. Leaning against one another for support, they laughed until Leliana's ribs were hurting and tears had begun to prick at the edges of her vision. She couldn't say why any of this was so funny, but the act proved to be immensely cathartic nonetheless. Fighting for composure, they both took a few deep breaths once their merriment had finally begun to die down.

"…Heh…" Kallian wiped at her eyes and chuckled again. "Shit, I needed that."

Leliana nodded breathlessly. "This has all gotten very grim, hasn't it? Sometimes, all it takes is a good laugh to remind you that the world is not as dark as it might appear."

"Maybe, but it's still damn cold out here even with all the laughing."

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before running out here without a jacket." Leliana pursed her lips when she noticed that the elf was shivering. "Would you like to head back to the camp? We could find you a cloak and a nice fire."

Kallian shook her head. "I don't wanna be around people right now. Don't worry about me; let's just find somewhere to sit down."

A quick glance around the clearing revealed that seating space would be in short supply. Most everything was covered in a thick layer of snow, and Leliana was about to say as much when she noticed a likely spot. Taking hold of Kallian's arm, Leliana steered her over towards a relatively clear spot of ground that had been sheltered on the lee side of a massive boulder. Sitting down first so that her cloak would act as a buffer against the icy earth, Leliana leaned back against the boulder and pulled Kallian down so that the elf was sitting between Leliana's legs with her back resting against Leliana's chest. In an effort to warm the other woman up, Leliana drew her cloak around to cover the both of them.

Kallian sighed and wiggled about until she was comfortable. "So this really doesn't weird you out or anything? I mean, I did just tell you that I could go crazy."

"Kallian, one of the first things I ever said to you was that the Maker himself visited me." Leliana wrapped her arms around Kallian's middle and rested her chin on top of the elf's head. "To most people, that would have been considered more than a little concerning. Yet, you did not turn me away."

"Yeah, but I kinda wanted to." Kallian spoke in a wry tone. "And a vision from the Maker is a whole lot different than killing people."

"Weren't you the one who said that we are all dangerous in our own respects? Frankly, I'm more worried that Oghren will get so drunk one night that he decides we are all Darkspawn. It will take more than a spooky elven legend to scare me away. Besides, the Maker told me that this is where I belong. I will trust in His wisdom and in what my heart tells me."

"And what's that?"

"That these last few months have been some of the happiest in my life." She smiled and hugged Kallian a little tighter. "And more to the point, I have never once regretted following you that day. I don't know what exactly is between us, but I like the way it makes me feel and I want to see where it will go. So, to put it simply: no, I'm not 'weirded out' by something like this."

Kallian let out a breath. "That's good…really good."

Leliana waited for her to say more, but Kallian lapsed into silence. Vaguely disappointed that she hadn't prompted a larger response, Leliana was nonetheless content to allow to simply sit there quietly. Though the stone was rough against her back and the cold had begun to seep through her cloak, she was enjoying the warm sensation of the elf's body against her own. Kallian was softer than she looked, and she smelled pleasantly of old campfires and that leather jacket of hers.

Leliana had meant every word that she had said to the elf. Her life prior to meeting up with the Grey Wardens had been a disaster of extremes. During her time as both a bard and a Cloistered Sister, she had respectively experienced long periods of chaos and confining stability. While she had managed to fool herself into believing she was happy, neither the Chantry nor Marjolaine had given her a life that suited her. But here, with Kallian and the others, she was beginning to find a balance between her two natures. These travels held the excitement the Chantry had lacked, and she felt a kind of fulfillment that hedonism and violence could never hope to replicate.

"Hey, Leliana?" Kallian's voice was soft.

"Hmm?"

"Does it ever…ya' know, bother you that I don't believe in the Maker?"

The question was a little unexpected, but Leliana recovered smoothly. "Of course it doesn't. Why, does it bother you that I do?"

"Well, a little." Kallian paused, and then began to speak hurriedly. "Not that it has anything to do with you. It's just that I've never had much use for the Maker and I don't see how anyone could believe in something like that. Especially considering how fucked up the Chantry can be some times."

"You do not have to worry about offending me. I know that it is incredibly difficult to understand another's beliefs when they are so foreign to your own. If you would like, I would be more than willing to discuss my faith with you." Leliana smiled even though she knew that Kallian couldn't see it. "I promise not to get too preachy."

"Sure, that would be great." Kallian shifted about and uttered a dry laugh. "We do seem to land on burdensome topics, don't we?"

"I've always considered it part of our charm." Leliana shrugged cheerfully and took a few moments to gather her thoughts. Regardless of the audience, discussing one's outlook on existence and the cosmic order was never an easy task. After debating where to begin, she eventually decided to just jump into the thick of it.

"Let me start by saying that I think that this is the both the easiest and hardest question for me to answer. In the most simple of terms, I believe in the Maker because that belief feels right to me. However, I would imagine that answer would be somewhat unsatisfying even if it is true."

Kallian looked back at her. "Just somewhat."

"So then, I suppose I have to elaborate somewhat further. That is also problematic, because I think it is nearly impossible to explain faith to someone who has never truly experienced it. Such a thing is akin to trying to describe the act of making love to someone who had never experienced it before."

"Um…how so?"

"Well, I would be able to describe the mechanics and respective motions of sex with little difficulty." Leliana grinned to herself. "I daresay I would even be able to make it sound rather interesting. But, all of that would not help someone to understand the sensation of the act. How could you ever begin to express the wonder of hearing another person gasp next to your ear? Or else attempt to describe how you feel both powerful and sleepy as you lie there afterwards? If one doesn't directly experiencing these things, they are simply words without context."

"Just to be clear," Kallian cleared her throat. "The Maker is like sex?"

"No, but that would be a brilliant slogan for gaining new converts." Leliana shook her head in amusement. "What I'm trying to say is that I can't ever explain why I feel so powerfully about my beliefs. All I can attempt to do is explain what it is that I believe."

Kallian made an agreeable sound and relaxed into Leliana's hold. At some point, she had stopped shivering thanks to the cloak and the shared body heat. Though Leliana had thought that this conversation was Kallian's way of distracting herself from darker thoughts, the elf seemed to be genuinely interested in what she had to say. Never one to waste a good audience, Leliana straightened up slightly as she continued.

"I personally do not believe that the Maker is some patriarchal figure who watches over us like a shepherd. To me, He is much more indefinable presence in this world. Instead of being an entity, I believe the Maker is more of an essence that exists in all aspects of the world around us. He is in the mountains, the sky, the plants, and even in all of us. I see the Maker as a formless order that governs the ways in which the world is shaped and developed."

"That doesn't sound much like what the Chantry claims." Kallian sounded dubious. "The few times I went, it was all about how he left us behind for all the sinning and whatnot."

Leliana nodded. "I can tell you that my views were not widely accepted while I was in Lothering. Most of the Sisters simply dismissed them as fanciful, and I believe that the word 'heresy' was thrown about more than once. I still do not see why they were so resistant; the doctrine the Chantry upholds is just one interpretation of the Chant of Light. When it comes to the Chant, my feeling is that the message is far more important than the details. In terms of ideology, my views are not all that different from those of the Chantry."

Kallian seemed to think about this for a moment. "Okay, but why even have a Maker? What's the point of having a god?"

"Hmm…I suppose that I would have to say that I feel that existence is a purposeful thing. When I see a sunset or hear a bird's call, I feel as though something powerful is speaking to me. When it comes down to it, I suppose you could say that I believe this simply because it makes me feel at peace."

"What if it isn't true?"

"No one will ever be able to prove or disprove the existence of the Maker." Leliana stroked a hand along Kallian's side. "So, I think we should all ascribe to a belief that brings us satisfaction. Rather than attempt to bring everyone around to one point of view, I think we should strive to show compassion and respect for others. My personal beliefs make me feel better about myself and those around me. To have someone say that I am wrong or foolish in believing such a thing seems very callous to my mind."

Kallian murmured softly at her touch. "I could get behind that. It seems to me that everyone in this world wastes too much time worrying about what other people are thinking. If not that, then they act like their opinion is the only one worth talking about."

"So, you see? It does not bother me if someone does not share my beliefs. They are a personal thing, and I would never be presumptuous enough to assume that everyone would find comfort in them. However, if they do no harm and bring me peace, I can see no reason for anyone to protest my believing them."

"Can't argue with that."

The conversation came to a natural conclusion, and Leliana was left feeling rather pleased with herself. Back in Lothering, her opinions on religion had been met with condescension or worse. Though she had always tried to overlook the close-mindedness of her fellow Lay-Sisters, their remarks had rankled more than she would have cared to admit. The fact that Kallian hadn't rejected her views was a pleasant change of pace. It was a small thing, but she felt a warm glow of confidence that hadn't existed before this point.

She was about to comment on how beautiful the frozen pond looked when Kallian abruptly began to move. Twisting around to face Leliana, the elf pushed herself up so that she was kneeling with her legs straddling either side of Leliana's waist. From this position, the two of them were more or less at the same eye-level.

"Thanks."

"For telling you about my beliefs?" Leliana chuckled. "No, thank _you _for listening."

Kallian shook her head slowly. "Not for that. I meant thanks for talking me down tonight and staying with me. I really needed you."

The words were more intimate than Leliana would have expected. Kallian was not obvious in her affections, and a great deal of their relationship had remained unspoken as a result. Smiling as a warm glow rose up in her chest, Leliana lifted her hands and rested them on Kallian's thighs.

"There's no need to thank me for that. I'm certain you would have done the same in my position."

"Even so," Kallian leaned down a little until there were only a few inches separating them. "I want you to know that I appreciate it."

Her kiss was gentler than usual. Bringing up a hand that was slightly rough from long practice with a dagger, the elf cupped the side Leliana's face as their lips met. Never one to sit passively during such things, Leliana sat up as much as she could and pressed a hand against the small of Kallian's back. Drawing Kallian a little closer, Leliana tilted her head up and allowed her to set the pace of things.

Sooner than Leliana would have liked, Kallian pulled back and raised her hand up to lightly comb through Leliana's hair. The gesture was soothing, and Leliana felt her eyelids droop into lazy slits as she gazed back at the other woman. Kallian studied her for a few moments before speaking in the faintest of whispers.

"You are beautiful."

The compliment actually made Leliana blush. She had been told that before, but never in the quietly sincere tone that Kallian was using. Arching up to place a kiss at the corner of Kallian's mouth, she gently nuzzled the elf's cheek with her own. "You're quite lovely yourself."

Neither of them spoke for a while, as if they were afraid to dispel the wonderfully intimate moment that had settled over them. Feeling a little mischievous, Leliana bent down to press a soft kiss at the junction between Kallian's neck and collarbone. Laughing when the elf trembled just slightly, she lifted her head to whisper in Kallian's ear.

"I've thought of a way you could possibly repay me."

"Uh-huh?"

"Well," Leliana broke out into a smile as she planted another small kiss on Kallian's jaw-line. "You could repay me by telling me something more about yourself. Something I haven't heard before."

Kallian groaned. "That's all you want? How could any of that be interesting to an Orlesian Bard?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I want to learn more about your life? Besides, you've experienced a life that is radically different from my own. I find that type of thing fascinating, and it's only fair considering that I just told you about my views on existence."

With a longsuffering sigh, Kallian turned her head so that their lips met once more. Allowing for a slight delay in the face of such a compelling distraction, Leliana parted her lips to deepen the kiss further. After a few moments, Kallian broke away to rest her forehead against Leliana's.

"Okay, what do you want to hear about?"

"It will have to be something important." Leliana smirked at her. "I want it to tell me something about you as a person."

Kallian seemed to think for a moment. "Uh…I could tell you how I got into thieving in the first place. Or, I suppose I could tell you some more about how my mom used to train me before she died. Both of those are pretty important I guess."

"Interesting, but I want something even bigger this time."

"Bigger than that? How about the first time I realized I liked girls? That's pretty damn important."

Leliana made a big show of pursing her lips in consideration. "Exciting and possibly embarrassing…but no, I'm afraid that might make me jealous. What else do you have?"

"Oh, I get it. This is where you keep me going in an attempt to learn all of my little secrets." Kallian gave her a mock glare. "That bard shit isn't going to work on me. If you want me to tell you something, then you're just going to have to ask me directly."

It felt good to see that Kallian was back to her old self. Laughing good-naturedly as the elf picked up on her little plan, Leliana cast about for something worthwhile to ask. Distracted for a moment, she was pleasantly surprised when Kallian bent down to kiss the side of her neck. Tilting her head to give Kallian better access, she gave a shiver of her own when the elf nipped at her skin lightly.

A burst of inspiration struck her. "Oh! I know what you can tell me! How did you end up becoming a Grey Warden? I've always wondered about that!"

Kallian stopped what she was doing and slowly pulled away. Leaning back to put some distance between them, she gazed back at Leliana with her eerily luminescent eyes. When she spoke, her voice was flat and tinged with what sounded like suspicion.

"Why do you want to know about that?"

Aware that their game had taken an unexpected turn, Leliana blinked in confusion. "Well, you have to admit it is a rather important part of your life. I just assumed that it would be a fascinating story."

"It's not." Kallian's tone was clipped. "No need to talk about it."

Leliana didn't need seven years of Bard training to realize that something was amiss. Frowning as she tried to make out Kallian's expression, Leliana straightened up and drew her hands away from Kallian's waist. "I wasn't trying to upset you. Is there a reason you don't wish to discuss this?"

Kallian stared at her for a few beats before pushing herself to her feet. Stepping away from Leliana in three quick steps, the elf hunched her shoulders like she was expecting an attack. "I'm getting tired. I think I'm going to head back to camp."

"Hold on, what just happened here?" Leliana scrambled to her own feet once she had gotten over her surprise.

"Nothing. I'm just tired is all."

"Fine," Leliana took a step towards her. "I'll walk back with you. We are both going in the same direction after all."

Kallian shook her head and stepped back to keep the distance between them constant. "No…I think I want to be alone for a while."

Utterly confused and rather hurt, Leliana spread her hands in a helpless sort of gesture. Part of her wanted to keep pressing Kallian to figure out what this was all about, but she had a feeling that the elf wouldn't tolerate anything of the sort. "Kallian, what's going on?"

"I said that it was nothing." Kallian was clearly agitated. "Thanks for the talk. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, the elf turned on her heel, and all but fled from the small clearing. Staring after her with a bitter mixture of incredulity and frustration, Leliana had an insane desire to smash her head against a tree trunk repeatedly. Tonight had seemed like a major development with Kallian. For the first time since she had known the elf, Kallian had opened up to Leliana without being prompted. It had hinted at progress, and yet Kallian had transformed back into her introverted self at the drop of a hat. Whatever her positive qualities may be, Kallian had to be the most infuriatingly volatile person Leliana had ever met.

"_Merde_."

She shook her head and replayed the conversation in her mind. It had seemed like an innocuous question, but it had clearly provoked a dramatic response. As it was clear that Kallian wasn't willing to share, Leliana resolved to discreetly probe Alistair for some information regarding this new development. He had known her for the longest, and it would stand to reason that he would be knowledgeable about anything that had to do with the Grey Wardens.

After a few more minutes of pointless fuming, Leliana eventually began to shuffle back in the direction of the Dalish camp. She knew that the smart play was to drop the topic of Kallian's recruitment for the moment. The elf was clearly on edge, and any further inquiries would do nothing aside from alienating her further. For right now, Leliana just had to drop the subject.

She grumbled unhappily as she went. It was going to be a long walk, and she'd have nothing but her own troubled thoughts as company.

...

xxXxx

* * *

So, I wanted to thank all of you for the amazing reviews you all left for the last chapter. To address a few anonymous reviews: Kallian is not Duncan's kid and I'll get to the role of that little development a little later in the fic. Also, good catch on the history of the Dalish wars. I chose to write it like that because I wanted it to be a "lost to history" kind of thing, and I didn't know how big Orlais was supposed to be at that time. So, for the purposes of this fic, the Dales fell a thousand years ago and they fought the Tevinters because those guys are a bunch of twats.

A big thank you to Kaidian for beta-ing the chapter.

Until next time everybody!


	26. Blue Turning Gray

Chapter 26: Blue Turning Grey

The Imperial Highroad - Denerim

* * *

xxXxx

…

"I don't know this one."

Wynne sighed and tapped the piece of paper with her forefinger. "Yes, you do. Just sound it out and you'll be fine."

Across from her, Kallian leaned forward and screwed up her face in concentration. Speaking slowly, she began to break up the word into syllables. "Okay, let's see what we've got…Muh…buh…rey...wait, no….Muh…bar…ie…Mabari!"

Wynne nodded in approval. "Excellent, now read the entire page please."

"See the Mabari run. The Mabari runs fast. Run Mabari, run." Kallian blinked and raised an eyebrow once she had finished reading the page. "Was that seriously the best you could come up with?"

Coloring slightly, Wynne put the page back with the others that she had drawn up. "I'll admit that it isn't the most stimulating thing ever written, but I didn't have much time to prepare these. Besides, this will help to give you practice identifying simple sentence structure."

"Uh-huh."

Kallian sounded as though she had expended her regrettably short attention span. Having learnt from past experience that the elf rapidly lost focus after a half-hour or so, Wynne decided to end their reading lesson for the evening. Placing her teaching materials to one side, she turned back to Kallian and smiled. "Well done tonight. I'll admit, I was a little pessimistic when we first began. But if you keep progressing at this pace, it won't be long before you're reading like a scribe."

"If you say so," Kallian stood up and brushed the back of her pants off with one hand. "It still seems hard enough to me."

"Oh hush, you're doing just fine. Have you been working with those grammar sheets I made for you?"

Thanks to the brilliant light that emanated from the tip of her staff, Wynne could clearly see the brief flash of guilt that crossed over Kallian's face. "Err, those have been great. They've got all sorts of words on them and stuff…"

"I see." Wynne chuckled and glanced over towards where the others were sitting by the campfire. "Well, I suppose you don't have much time for them anyway. Just do your best to go over them a few times if you manage to find a few free moments."

"I'll try to keep that in mind." Kallian nodded agreeably before glancing sidelong at Wynne. "Hey, did you happen to think about what I told you yesterday?"

Wynne gathered up the assorted papers set about stuffing them back into her shoulder bag. "You mean this business regarding your episodes? Yes, I actually gave it quite a bit of thought while we were travelling today. While I don't know enough to tell you exactly what this is, I do have some theories. With your permission, I'd like to perform an examination."

"What kind of examination?" Kallian sounded wary.

"Nothing to worry over, I assure you." Wynne extinguished the light of her staff. "I'll just be putting you to sleep for a few minutes to study your mind with a little magic. Most of my previous patients have even reported that they find the process to be quiet pleasant."

"When would you want to do this?"

It was a good question. Wynne had been feeling rather tired lately, and she wasn't eager to expend any more energy than she absolutely had to. "Let's wait until we reach Denerim. We'll have a few days to rest, and the city will have any supplies I might need to help treat your condition."

"Thanks, that sounds great."

"Wonderful. Until then, I expect you to work on those grammar cards."

Kallian bobbed her head in acknowledgment before setting off to presumably join the others at the fire. After only a few steps however, the elf paused and turned back to face her. "Umm…Wynne?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry." Kallian cleared her throat. "Ya' know, for the way I've acted around you."

The apology took Wynne by surprise, but she recovered quickly enough to accept it in good grace. "Thank you Kallian, I certainly appreciate that."

"No seriously, I want you to know that I'm grateful for all that you're doing for me." The elf shifted her weight from foot to foot. "It's a lot more than most people would do, and I've been treating you badly for no reason. So, I'm sorry for that."

"Well, I will admit that you can sometimes be…" Wynne trailed off and waved her hand about as she tried to think of a good way to phrase this. After a few moments, Kallian decided to help her.

"Something of a cunt?"

"Maker's Breath, Kallian!" Wynne flinched in discomfort. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'difficult'."

Kallian seemed to shrug. "Either way, I know that I owe you more than a few debts. So, if you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

"I'll certainly bear that in mind."

Dipping into an odd little bow, Kallian pivoted and strode off without another word. Feeling both embarrassed and curiously pleased, Wynne gently ran a hand over her hair as she came to terms with her surprise. She had always known that Kallian would come around eventually. During her time as a Senior Enchanter, Wynne had seen many children come into the Tower after having spent their whole lives in the charnel pit that was Denerim. They were all aggressive and distrustful at first, but a little kindness and some regular feeding often did wonders in long run.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Wynne took up her staff and began walking in the direction of her tent to drop off the things she didn't need. It would be good to sit at the fire with the others. Yhe cold of the last hour had seeped into her bones, and her joints were aching terribly. The First Enchanter hadn't been wrong when he had warned her that she was too old to undertake such a journey. Though Wynne had done her best to avoid slowing the Wardens down, she had begun to feel perpetually tired. It had gotten to the point where she was beginning wonder if she was finally close to making her long overdue appointment with death.

With that delightful thought carving its way through her mind, Wynne barely noticed Alistair until he was all but in front of her. Humming cheerfully, the man smiled broadly at her over the armful of logs he was carrying back from the forest. Whereas she was shivering in her thick robes and woolen shawl, Alistair was dressed in a short-sleeved tunic as though he was actually enjoying the frigid weather. Unable to entertain morbid thoughts in the face of his good humor, Wynne smiled back at him.

"Hello Alistair, you've been busy I see."

Alistair chuckled and jerked his chin down at the logs. "You have no idea how hard it is to find dry wood in the middle of winter. These ones were more or less covered by a fallen tree, but they're still going to hiss and smoke something awful when we throw them on."

"Perhaps, but it's much better than nothing." Wynne leaned on her staff. "On an unrelated note, you will never guess what I just heard."

"Yeesh…is Oghren telling his limericks again?"

Wynne blinked. "He does limericks?"

"Oh sure: There once was a dwarf named Molder, who made a puppet show bolder, he took a moldy sock, and put it on his—"

"I wasn't really looking for an example." Wynne cut him off hurriedly. "Incidentally, I was actually referring to a conversation I just had with your fellow Warden. She surprised me after our lesson by delivering a nice, if somewhat colorful, apology."

Alistair gave a low whistle. "Kallian apologized to you? Wynne, you are truly among the blessed few."

"It looked as though it was physically painful for her." Wynne let her lips curl up into a wry smile. "Along with the literacy, this sudden surge of civility is making her practically respectable. One might even mistake her for a noblewoman if it weren't for the profuse swearing."

Setting his armful of wood on a nearby ground cloth, Alistair dusted his hands off. "So the reading is going well then?"

"Oh yes, she's picking it up much more quickly now that we've gotten over the initial hurdles. Look here, I've even taught her to write her name." Wynne produced a scrap of parchment from her bag and passed it over to the Ex-Templar. Just like with her apprentices in the Tower, she always relished the opportunity to display her students' achievements.

Squinting at the crooked letters in the faint moonlight, Alistair made a noise of consideration. "I see that she spells her name with an 'F'."

"It's a work in progress."

Alistair chuckled and passed the paper back to her. "I'm still amazed that you've managed to talk her into these lessons in the first place."

"I can't claim total credit. She said she wanted to learn so that she could read something by a 'Nicolas Fouquet'. Don't bother asking me how she knows about an Orlesian author. I can only assume that our bard is the one responsible for that."

"That sounds like a safe bet." Alistair glanced over in the direction of the fire. "The two of them are as thick as thieves these days."

Wynne frowned at the reminder. The relationship that had been developing between Kallian and Leliana concerned her on many levels. For one thing, they both had concerning proclivities towards deception and immorality. While it seemed that Leliana had left much of that behind her when she entered the Chantry, Wynne had caught a few glimpses of the woman she had once been. Combine that with Kallian's distrust and mercenary outlook on life, and Wynne had a private fear that their relationship would prove to be destructive. There was just too much chaos between the two of them for anything concrete to form.

That was not even her main concern. Kallian was a Grey Warden, and Grey Wardens were expected to perform a duty. Having a personal attachment of that magnitude might make it difficult for Kallian to make the necessary sacrifices when the time comes. Wynne would have to have a conversation with the young elf in regards to the prudence of pursuing such a relationship.

However, that would have to wait for the time being. Clearing her throat to reclaim Alistair's attention, Wynne switched to a topic that was of more immediate interest. "As I understand it, we are no more than a day's journey outside of Denerim. Have you given thought to our plan of action for when we enter the city?"

"Stay low and make for the Warden safe-house as quickly as possible." Alistair blew out a breath and stomped his boots to clear them of snow. "Zathrian was good enough to provide us with some rations before we left, but we'll need to thoroughly resupply before we can do much of anything else. After that, we can see about finding Brother Genitivi. If all goes well, we can be in and out of the city in a matter of days."

"Are you certain this safe-house will still be waiting for us?"

He shrugged. "I haven't got a clue. It's been years since I've been to Denerim, and all manner of things could have happened since then. That said, it's in a secluded part of the marketplace and Duncan told me it was warded heavily against all kinds of intrusion. I figure we should probably check it out one way or the other."

Wynne nodded in agreement. When Alistair had first revealed that the Grey Wardens maintained secret consuls across Fereldan, she had initially recalled the fanciful conspiracy theories that had made circuits among the more eccentric Enchanters in the Circle Tower. Though it was hardly the extensive spy network that those rumors had suggested at, Wynne had not believed the Wardens to have this degree of physical presence in the country. In her mind, they had always been a localized institution that had little influence in society. The existence of this hidden safe-house suggested that there was a more to the Wardens than they had ever cared to divulge.

"I'd agree, but I'm concerned that we may draw too much attention while searching for this Genitivi." Wynne pulled her shawl a little tighter as an icy breeze bit its way through the air. "Loghain will have a small army patrolling the capitol. We would do well to avoid any altercations. I was hoping you might have a more concrete plan in mind."

"Ah, well my hope is that Kallian might be some help on that front. She knows Denerim, and my hope is that she'll be able to get information discreetly."

It was logical, but Wynne only made a skeptical sound. "It may not be wise to depend too heavily on the individuals that Kallian may know. They are likely unsavory sorts, and there is the danger that they might decide to sell us out for the right price. We should have a contingency just to be certain."

"I'll be sure to talk to her about only dealing with people she trusts." Alistair smiled and spread his hands. "As for a contingency…I really haven't given one much thought. Do you have any suggestions?"

Wynne certainly did have a suggestion. "Let me go to the Chantry's library once we've reached the safe-house. In addition to possibly providing some extra information regarding the Ashes, it may also contain a census for the taxpaying citizens. I may have to comb through several hundred pages, but I should be able to find Genitive's personal documentation. With any luck, I'd be able to learn what property he owns and which texts he requested from the library. It might help to shed some light on what he was studying."

She didn't see the need to mention that Denerim's library also contained a number of rare histories that she had been eager to read for many years now. They didn't have anything to do with the Ashes, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn a little more about Ferelden's formative years. In her eyes, this would be like killing two birds with one stone.

"Wow, that sounds extremely boring."

"It will be, but I'm prepared to suffer for the good of us all." Wynne smiled faintly to let him know she was joking.

Alistair tossed up his hands. "If you're sure about that, then I'd be more than happy to have a backup plan. Duncan once told me that two plans are always better than one. He said the same thing about women, but I'm pretty sure that was a just a joke."

Wynne chuckled before remembering what Alistair told her about his former mentor. "Have you spoken with Kallian about…?"

"No, and I don't think either one of us is eager to get into that." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I'm still haven't wrapped my brain around it. On one hand, I suppose that it's no big deal, but it still makes me feel all twitchy and self-conscious. It's has to be even weirder for her considering that it was her mother and everything."

"Give it a little time. This is hardly the worst thing you have to deal with."

Alistair grinned at that. "You could say that again. Compared to the Darkspawn, a little awkwardness isn't really something to worry ourselves over."

"That's the spirit." Wynne paused before speaking in a more hesitant tone." While we are speaking about such things, I'm curious as to whether or not you've made a decision regarding your sister. This trip to Denerim will provide a wonderful opportunity for you to connect with her."

The question flustered Alistair in way that Wynne had not intended. Mumbling something under his breath, he folded his arms. "Uh…well, I haven't really decided yet."

"I see. Is it a question of logistics? I'm certain there will be time enough for a quick visit."

"No, it's not that. I just can't shake the feeling that showing up unannounced would be a really bad idea." Alistair let off an uncomfortable laugh. "As far as I know, she isn't even aware of the fact that I exist. I mean, wouldn't it be weird if someone just walked up to you and said he was your brother?"

"Perhaps, but I'm certain she would be eager to meet you if she had the choice."

Alistair harrumphed. "You're probably right. I just don't know if I have it in me to go see her all by myself."

"Ask Kallian to go along with you. She's become an important part of your life, and I doubt very much that she'd refuse to help you with something like this."

The Ex-Templer glanced over at the fire for a long moment. Taking a deep breath, Alistair shook his head slowly. "I don't think she would either, but Kallian's got enough on her plate without having to worry about something as silly as this. Maybe I'll ask Leliana if she'd mind coming along as moral support."

"Well, I could always go if that would make you feel better."

Alistair shook his head again. "While I appreciate the offer, I don't want to be taking you away from the library. Don't worry too much about it Wynne, I'll either see her now or I won't. Either way, it's not important enough to interfere with what we've got planned. There will be time enough for meeting my family once the Blight is dealt with."

"I see your point, Alistair." Wynne smiled at him. "Just be sure to consider this carefully. It may be the only chance you ever have to meet this woman."

"Don't worry; I'll be giving this a lot of thought over the next few days."

Alistair feel silent for a moment before bending down to gather up the wood he had set down earlier. Watching him with no small amount of pity, Wynne tried to think of something she could say to ease his mind. As a bastard and an orphan, Alistair had been deprived of a family in any traditional sense. It was why he had devoted himself entirely to Duncan and the Grey Wardens as a whole. That brotherhood may have eased some of his pain, but Wynne could understand the allure that meeting his long-lost sister must hold for him.

He straightened up once he had gathered all the wood into his arms. "Well, shall we join the others?"

"Yes, indeed. It's far too cold to be standing out here."

Wynne let Alistair lead the way over to the camp's fire. It would be good to warm herself by the fire, and she wouldn't say no to some of the spiced wine that Oghren had purchased before they had left the Dalish camp. Most of all, she was looking forward to getting a good night's sleep after a long day of travel.

She would need her strength in the morning.

…

xxXxx

They arrived at Denerim's outer limits a few hours before nightfall. Far bigger than any town Wynne had ever seen, Denerim's sprawling cityscape stretched out before them like a harbor seal on the shoreline. Great fields surrounded the city, but the winter snow had covered these expanses in a thick covering of white. Even from a distance, one could see thin streams of wood smoke rising from countless chimneys and fire pits. All in all, Denerim was practically impossible to miss.

In general, most visitors arrived at the city by way of the main entrance. Past the massive gates, the main street would lead directly into the nicer parts of the city. Unfortunately, that entrance was also a checkpoint that would almost certainly be manned by Loghain's soldiers. In the interest of maintaining a low profile, Alistair had led them around to one of the southern entrances in an effort to avoid any direct contact with the vigilant guardsmen.

The major drawback was that this also meant that they were forced to pass through a rather seedy portion of the capitol city.

Most of the houses in the lower districts were formed from a patchwork mixture of moldy clapboard and scrap wood. While many of these hovels were covered with clay roofing slates, Wynne could saw a number of structures that were topped with nothing more than a layer of rushes. It was a far cry from the stone structures that made up the marketplace, and the poverty was made only more apparent by the relative lack of any color. Dyes and paint were expensive commodities that had no place among the crumbling shacks that lined either side of the main road.

There weren't many people on the streets in deference to the winter snow. Those without anywhere to go were huddled in the shelter of the narrow alleys with meager fires kept burning for warmth. They were uniform in their wretchedness, and all of them stared back at the party with hungry eyes.

As bad as the poor district appeared, it smelled even worse. Wrinkling her nose against the putrid stench of human waste and rotting refuse, Wynne carefully watched the ground in front of her feet in an effort to avoid stepping in anything unmentionable. To her right, Oghren hocked and spit a wad of phlegm off to the side.

"By the Stone…you topsiders sure know how to make somethin' look like shit."

Kallian glanced back at Oghren and flashed him a crooked smirk. "What, does it offend your delicate sensibilities?"

"I ain't offended, Sweetness. Just sayin' that you lot have a talent for ugly." He sniggered and tossed her a leer. "Leastways, when it comes to yer buildings.. I've got no problems with the way you topsider women look. In fact, I remember this one human girl who—"

Morrigan made a disgusted sound. "Oh lovely, it has been _so _long since you've regaled us with tales of your undoubtedly fictional conquests. Let me guess, did this one also have overly large breasts and a penchant for moaning? 'Twould seem that those misguided souls practically flock to your side."

The dwarf frowned at her. "Hey, I can't decide which ladies fall for me."

"Of which my entire gender is thankful."

"Heh, I get what this is about." Oghren snorted and gave Morrigan a wide smile. "If yer jealous, ya' need only say so. I'd be more than willin' to toss ya' a pity lay if that's what yer after."

"You vile little worm." Morrigan stopped in midstride to round on the dwarf. "I believe I have tolerated your crudity long enough!"

"Ooooh! What are ya' going to do? Wave yer little stick around and talk all spooky-like?"

Morrigan's eyes literally sparked as a nimbus of crackling energy surrounded her hand. The sharp smell of ozone filled the air as the witch summoned an alarming amount of power. "I have heard much about the fabled magical resistance of the dwarves. Perhaps 'tis time we put such claims to the test."

Oghren moved a hand towards the handle of his hammer with a derisive scoff. The situation might have escalated further if Alistair hadn't intervened. Placing a hand on Morrigan's shoulder, he pitched his voice into a low whisper. "Calm down, this isn't wise. You're bleeding enough magic that an attentive Templar might take notice."

Morrigan's glare snapped to him. "I do not fear the mage-hunters."

"You should; the Templars in Denerim are a whole different breed from the ones you are used to. This can wait until we leave the city."

Wynne fully expected Morrigan to ignore him, but to her surprise, the witch released the magical energies that had leapt to her command. Shaking off Alistair's hand with an irritable hiss, Morrigan shot another venomous look in Oghren's direction before striding forward as though nothing had ever happened. The entire group collectively relaxed now that it was apparent that Morrigan wasn't going to blast a crater in the middle of a city street.

Tossing Kallian a significant look, Alistair jerked his head in the direction of the angry witch. Kallian nodded once and quickened her pace to catch up to Morrigan before the other woman could get too far away from the main group.

Wynne smiled in approval. Morrigan tolerated Kallian far better than she did the rest of them. With any luck, the elf would be able to ensure that the witch stayed out of trouble. It seemed as though Alistair was learning how to be canny when it came to dealing with difficult people.

For his part, Oghren simply chuckled as they began walking once more. Wynne had the uncomfortable feeling that the dwarf had enjoyed that little bit of chaos. However one-dimensional he may appear, Oghren was still something of an unknown element in her mind.

Luckily, it seemed as though none of the locals had seen Morrigan's display as the rest of their journey through the lower district was as thankfully uneventful. Though she did not voice her thoughts to any of the others, Wynne was privately horrified by the conditions these people were living in. This was a hard and ugly part of Ferelden that frightened her in very primal way. It gave her the same feeling she had whenever she came across a large and possibly unfriendly dog.

Gradually however, the scenery began to change as they made their way out of the slums and into the more gentrified parts of the city. The packed-dirt road was soon replaced by a paved cobble street that was mercifully free of both trash and the ever present snow. Likewise, the construction and building materials of the surrounding house improved dramatically as they neared Denerim's marketplace. Soon, the streets widened and the reek of the lower districts faded to a bad memory. Only then did Wynne allow herself to relax a little. This part of the city felt more like the civilization she was used to.

Kallian and Morrigan had slowed down in order to allow the rest of them to catch up. Once Alistair had gotten close enough, the elf cocked her head to one side. "So, which way are we headed? You're the one who knows where this thing is."

"Erm...well, I wouldn't necessarily say that." Alistair chuckled sheepishly. "It's been a while since I was last here, and my memory is a bit fuzzy. I do recall that the safe-house is nearby that famous shop. You know, the one with all the magic things."

"The Wonders of Thedas? That's easy enough. We could get there by skirting around the marketplace." Kallian judiciously nodded and adopted an unhurried pace as she led them into the city's center. "It's fast, and we can lose ourselves in the crowd."

Alistair hummed an agreement. "Lead on. I'm sure you know this place better than any of us."

"Will there even be a crowd for us to hide in?" Wynne frowned slightly as she took in the largely deserted street. "It seems to me that anyone with a grain of sense is staying indoors next to a warm fire. Surely the merchants won't even bother setting up in weather like this."

Kallian shot her an amused look. "This is Denerim; there's always a crowd."

It soon became clear that the elf was not exaggerating. Preceded by a confusing array of sounds and smells, the legendary markets of Denerim soon appeared before them in a brilliant whirlwind of color and motion. The large circular pavilion was easily five-hundred yards in diameter, and the city had erected a fabric awning over the majority of the space. In spite of the vast scale of the place, Wynne was astonished to see that every available inch of ground was being put to some use or another. Merchant stalls were crammed so tightly together that even a slender man would have trouble walking in between them. Interspersed amongst the individual vendors, a multitude of glowing braziers helped to fight off some of the winter's chill.

Even more impressive than this size of the marketplace was what it had to offer. It seemed as though every possible commodity was on sale in the crowded space. Hanging from the stalls or displayed in wooden cases, Wynne could see books, weapons, armor, clothing, food, jewelry, and even what looked to be a selection of "magical" tonics and potions. Beneath a silk overhang, several dark-skinned Rivaini men wearing garish robes were extolling the merits of their exotic spices. Directly across from them, a heavily made-up Orlesian woman was demonstrating perfumes for a small crowd of richly attired women.

Spread out amongst the merchants and prospective buyers, the less savory elements of Denerim were also moving about. A shifty-eyed man had spread out a blanket on the ground, and was presently calling for people to try their luck at a dice game of some sort. Small hoards of dirty children scampered through the crowd while giggling and screaming at each other playfully. In stark contrast, the City Guard patrolled the marketplace with stern faces and their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

It was all a little much to take in all at once, and Wynne found herself gaping like a country rube on her first day off of the farm. Denerim's markets were even more amazing than the ones they had encountered back at Orzammar. The city was wonderfully diverse, and nowhere was that more apparent than here.

So focused was she on the marketplace, that Wynne forgot to watch where she was going. Stumbling as she bumped into a muscular dwarf, Wynne stammered a quick apology before hurrying to catch up with the others. Kallian was leading them along the outer rim of the markets, and the elf wasn't slowing down for anything.

"How is it that these streets are clear of snow?" Sten's voice was a low rumble as he asked the question. "Do they shovel it away? It seems like that would be an endless task."

Kallian answered him by calling over her shoulder. "They bring in a couple of mages to take care of it every fall. I dunno what they do, but it involves pouring this yellow shit everywhere. It takes care of the ice, but it makes the city smell like rotting milk for days."

"It's a de-icing agent." Wynne peered down at the cobblestones in the hopes of seeing some of the substance. "Very simple to produce, and it can last for months if it is prepared correctly and stored in the right conditions."

Sten glanced at her. "I would imagine that to be a useful invention considering the climate."

"Oh yes, and it makes the Circle a considerable amount of money every year."

Kallian abruptly veered off down a side street that branched away from the central markets. This new path was much less crowded than the pavilion, and it was something of a relief to be out of the press of people. While this was still part of the city's trade district, the merchants on this new street were established in actual shops as opposed to stalls. Smiling at two children who were playing with a battered leather ball, Wynne glanced up at the signs that hung above the shops.

Though most of the names were unknown to her, Wynne easily picked out the sign for the famous Gnawed Noble Inn. It was said to be the oldest tavern in the country, and it was curious in that sense that both nobles and commoners were welcome within its doors. The tavern was historically significant, and she hoped they would have the opportunity to have a pint or two before leaving the city.

They passed by the tavern and came across something that was even more remarkable. The Wonders of Thedas looked every bit as intriguing as Wynne had pictured it. As one of the few dedicated magic shops in all of Thedas, the store was well-known in every corner of continent. It was said that The Wonders of Thedas held items that dated back to the Golden Age of the Tevinter Imperium. She had often longed to set foot inside the fabled store, and she _would_ find the time to do so.

Kallian didn't even spare the shop a single glance as she strode past. Casting a quick look back at Alistair, the elf gestured at the surrounding buildings with a small shrug. "Well, this is the place. You're going to have to take over from here."

"No worries, I know exactly where it is now." Alistair pointed at a nondescript door that was set into a large wooden building. "It's right in there."

Kallian frowned at him. "That's one of the warehouses."

"Oh, it's _so _much more."

With a boyish grin, Alistair took the lead and approached the warehouse door eagerly with the rest of the party trailing after him at a much more subdued pace. It looked as though the door was locked, but Alistair simple placed a hand on the handle and gave a quick turn. The lock clicked open without even the slightest bit of resistance, and Alistair walked into the warehouse to hold the door open for the rest of them.

Once inside, Wynne had to squint to make out anything in the poorly lit building. Oghren was the last of them to make it inside, and as soon as the door was closed, Wynne murmured a spell to illuminate the tip of her staff. Raising it above her head, she blinked in puzzlement as the pale light washed over the interior of the building.

"Ah…not to be contrary," Leliana spoke up hesitantly from where she was standing next to Kallian. "But, this looks rather like an ordinary warehouse."

Wynne couldn't help but agree. The building was composed of a single room filled with large wooden crates that were piled in tall stacks. Aside from a few barrels to break up the monotony, the warehouse did not seem to be at all special. It certainly did not seem like the type of place where one would expect to find a secret Grey Warden hideout.

Alistair chuckled. "I know, it's pretty neat isn't it?"

"I suppose one could say that." Zevran murmured softly as he moved to lightly kick one of the barrels. "If they had an intense affection for dust and storage space. I however, am more concerned about the relative lack of security in what is supposed to be a safe-house."

"Trust me, there's a whole lot more to this place than meets the eyes." Alistair grinned at them all before motioning towards the back wall. "C'mon, you guys are going to love this."

Wynne followed close behind him with her staff upraised to provide the others with enough light. Alistair led them through the tall stacks of crates to reveal several bookcase lining the far wall. Stacked high with ledgers and other trade documents, the bookcases appeared to be as uninteresting as the rest of this place. Nonetheless, Alistair turned around to face them with a pleased look on his face.

"Okay, first of all, that door we came in was sealed with a full-blown blood ward. Only a Grey Warden could ever hope to turn that handle."

The words didn't seem to impress the others, but Wynne knew exactly what that meant. A blood ward was easily the most powerful defense that could be placed on a structure. Unlike other wards which could subverted or tricked, a blood ward would only respond to a very select group of individuals. Usually, this meant a family bloodline, but it would certainly work for the Grey Wardens and their unique physiology. Best of all, a blood ward would never decay or weaken no matter how long it was left in place.

The only real problem was that it was a form of blood magic. Placing a blood ward was punishable by death.

"But, that's not even the best part." Alistair continued without realizing that only Wynne and Morrigan had any idea what he was talking about. "This entire warehouse is nothing but a big façade. The real safe-house is right over here."

With that, he reached over and pulled a large green book halfway off of one of the bookshelves. With a horrific creak, the bookcase slowly swung out to reveal a hidden passageway. Spreading his arms out wide like a street magician, Alistair beamed at all of them.

"The Grey Wardens go to the trouble of placing a blood ward…"Morrigan spoke slowly as she leaned against her staff. "…Only to hide a passageway behind a bookcase of all things."

Kallian snorted a laugh. "Seriously, why didn't you just post a sign inviting everyone in?"

"Hey, none of you knew that it was here." Alistair frowned and glanced down the freshly revealed passage. "It may not be original, but sometimes you have to go with the classics. Besides, this place has been here for years without anyone being the wiser. All these crates and barrels are empty, and no one would be able to break in even if they wanted to."

Wynne moved forward to examine the secret passage. "Don't people wonder why no one ever goes in or out?"

"Duncan said that the warehouse is listed as long-term storage for an Orlesian dignitary. The guards leave it alone to avoid creating an international incident." Alistair gave a careless shrug. "Plus, they've got bigger things to worry about than an unattended warehouse."

It made enough sense to satisfy Wynne's curiosity. Lifting her staff meaningfully, she nodded towards the passage. "Should I go in first, it seems like it's a little dark in there."

"No need." Alistair scrunched up his brow. "What was that word? Oh right…_lux_."

Wynne recognized it as a word from the Old Tevinter language, and it's effect was immediate. The room beyond the bookcase was suddenly awash in the warm glow of illuminator crystals. Set high into the walls, the yellow gems exuded tantalizing warmth in addition to the light. Like the blood ward, these crystals were the result of complicated magic.

Alistair motioned them forward as he stepped into the newly illuminated room. Following after him with a growing sense of curiosity, Wynne got her first look at the Grey Warden's safe-house.

Composed of a single long room, the safe-house was not quite as impressive as she had imagined. The majority of the space was dominated by ten bunk-beds that were set along the far wall. Each was furnished with a pillow and comfortable-looking bedclothes. Aside from the billets, there room was furnished with only a large table and an assortment of chairs. In one corner, several oak barrels were set off to one side. More then likely, they contained some type of preserved food.

The room was simple and functionary, but it was much better than camping outside the city walls.

"As I understand it, the room has a few secret vents to allow a little airflow. So, we don't really have to worry about suffocating or any such thing." Alistair slid his backpack off his shoulders and set it down next to the table. "The crystals should give us plenty of warmth, so we won't need a fire either."

Kallian gave a low whistle. "I'll admit, this is kinda awesome."

"I know, right?"

The party filed into the safe-house and Alistair pulled a lever on the wall to send the bookcase sliding back into place. With a chorus of relieved groans, the party began to shed the heavy gear that they had been carrying around. After a few moments, Alistair pulled out a chair and motioned for the others to do the same. Once they were all seated around the large table, he clasped his hands in front of him and began speaking.

"Alright, now that we've arrived safely, I think it's time we discussed our plans for Denerim. We'll likely be here for a few days, but I'd like to be leaving here as soon as possible. Every moment we're in the city places us at risk of being discovered by Loghain's forces. We're still officially labeled as traitors to the realm, and this is most dangerous place for us to be."

Kallian rested her elbows on top of the table. "We should be able to find this brother fairly quickly. Denerim is a big place, but someone is always watching."

"I wouldn't be so sure. The knights that Teagan sent to look for him reported that he was nowhere in the city. According to their reports, his house was empty save for his manservant; a man called Weylon. They questioned him, but he claims to have no idea where his master has gone."

Zevran clucked his tongue. "He could very well be dead. People do not usually disappear without a single trace."

"Let's hope not." Alistair nodded in Wynne's direction. "Wynne's volunteered to go to the library in search of anything we might be able to use. With any luck, she might be able to dig up something that will cast a little bit of insight on either the brother or the Ashes. It's a long shot, but it's as good a plan as any we have."

Sten voice rumbled out of his chest. "And what of the rest of us? Do we sit here waiting for the _saarebas _to read through her books?"

"You're welcome to join her if that's what you want." Alistair gave the Qunari a wry grin before shaking his head. "What I was hoping is that the rest of us can pursue different leads. I'm personally planning on going to the Knight-Commander of the local Templar chapter to see if Genitivi gave any indication of where he might be going. The Templars are a little tight-lipped about the activities of the clergy, but I'm certain they'll be much more amenable to one of their own."

"I hadn't even thought of that." Wynne nodded thoughtfully. "If Genitivi asked for any kind of escort, they would certainly know about it."

Kallian cleared her throat. "Do you still want me to go looking in low places? I know a middleman who's got plenty of connections and a good sense of when to keep his mouth shut. I'm not saying that it won't be a slight risk, but I've worked with him enough to know that he's a decent sort."

"Go for it, I think we can use all the help we can get with this."

The elf smirked slightly and settled back into her seat with a pleased expression. Wynne was about to point out that dealing with criminals should be a last resort when Oghren abruptly spoke up. "Hell, that's great and all, but what are we doin' about provisions? I can't help but notice that we're runnin' a little low on food."

"Here," Kallian fished a coin purse out of her bag and tossed it at the dwarf. "That's what we got off those mercs who tried to ambush us. Use it to buy food."

"Heh, damn right I will."

Sten looked between the elf and the dwarf for a moment before glancing over at Alistair. "I shall accompany the dwarf to acquire supplies. If I don't, I believe that we will end up with nothing except for an overabundance of cheap liquor."

"Good idea," Alistair ignored Oghren's loud protest. "It's probably better if we try to stay together as much as possible anyway. On that note, I think it's best if I mention that someone has to be here at all times. Only Kallian and I can open that door from the outside, and I'm sure than none of us wants to be trapped outside in this weather."

There was a faint mumble of agreement from around the table. After a brief pause, Zevran folded his arms and smiled over at Alistair. "I have a mind to search the good brother's house if you don't object. It seems to me that it might hold plenty of clues as to where he's scurried off to. At the very least, I could have a nice conversation with this Weylon fellow."

"I'll give you the address if you want it." Alistair shrugged. "I was planning on going anyway. Fair warning: the knights said the place was practically empty. Their report claims he only had three books in the house, and two of them were the Chant of Light."

"Ah, then it may prove to be a waste of time. Luckily, I'm a master of frivolity."

Wynne rolled her eyes and hid a smile. Of all of their companions, Zevran was definitely the most entertaining in her mind. The elf was incorrigible and dedicated to his indifference, but she found him to be welcome change from the solemnity that sometimes crept over the group. People like Zevran could make her feel young again.

"Well, that's about it." Alistair clapped his hands together. "We can all start looking for Genitivi tomorrow. Until then, get some rest and relax a little. I want to be out of Denerim in no more than three days."

There was a scrapping of chairs as everyone rose up all at once. Though she didn't know what the others were planning, Wynne had already decided to retire for the evening. It had been weeks since she had last seen a real bed, and the bunks were calling to her like a group of old friends. Kallian's dog seemed to have the same idea as her as the massive animal had already taken up residence on one of the lower bunks.

Noting with distaste that the animal was drooling all over his blanket, Wynne moved on to find a bed of her own. After a brief deliberation, she chose one of the bottom bunks that looked perfectly inviting. Sighing in contentment as she sunk down on top of the soft mattress, Wynne removed her shawl and looked back at the rest of the party as they traded words and bustled about.

It was a strange company she found herself in, but this somehow felt right to her. Too tired to really ponder anything more profound, Wynne lay down on her side and closed her eyes. As was the case with women of her age, it did not take long for sleep to find her. The day's exertion had taken its toll, and tomorrow would only bring more work.

Still, it was better than withering away in the Tower.

...

xxXxx

* * *

So this chapter is pretty much the link between the Dalish portion and the Denerim portion.

I apologize for the delayed update. The chapter was actually written last monday, but I'm only able to get it out now due to some technical difficulties. On the plus side, the next chapter is entirely written and needs only to be edited. So, expect that to be up in about two-three days. It's also a Kallian and Leliana chapter, which are far and away my favorites to write.

Thanks very much for the feedback on the last two chapters. My intention with those was to follow in Dragon Age tradition by providing a fantastic and logical explanation for an extraordinary event. I really enjoyed hearing all of your comments, and I always appreciated constructive criticism!

Again, I do apologize for the delay.


	27. Backstreets

A/N: Hey, I finally kept a promise when it comes to updating. It feels...nice.

Chapter 27: Backstreets

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

…

The city smelled like home.

Of course, that didn't necessarily mean that the scent was in anyway pleasant. Considering that there were thousands of people living in a relatively small space, Denerim always smelled like someone had been boiling cabbages in a big pot of watery shit. Every breeze the floated over the dingy rooftops was practically pregnant with the rank odor.

Kallian had hated the way Denerim smelled since she was a little child. It was a horrid mixture of unwashed bodies and rotting food that was complimented by the ever-changing stench of industry. Depending on where a person stood on a given day, they might be assailed with the fishy reek of the docks or the choking ash that always swirled around the local blacksmiths. Collectively, it was more than enough to make someone's nose feel clogged up and useless.

As bad as it was, a part of her found comfort in the familiarity of the stench. After months of dealing with the unexpected and terrifying requirements of her new life, Denerim was a reassuring constant. It was a dangerous shithole to be sure, but she knew this dangerous shithole like the back of her hand. This was part of the reason it felt so nice to be walking through the marketplace once more.

Even though it had not snowed for several days, the weather was bitterly cold this early in the day. Most of the saner denizens of the city waited until midday to conduct their business, so the marketplace was relatively empty. A thick fog had settled over the city sometime last night, and it still lingered in the frozen clouds that shimmered in the bright sunlight of the winter morning. It made for a pretty picture, and Kallian found herself smiling faintly at nothing in particular.

"Why are you strutting?"

Kallian blinked and tossed a confused glance over at Leliana. The Orlesian woman was watching her with one delicate eyebrow raised in amusement. "I'm not strutting."

"Yes, you are." Leliana smiled as they slowly meandered their way among the stalls. "Ever since we stepped foot outside, you've been walking about like a courtier in a brand new coat."

Spreading her hands out, Kallian looked down at herself. "I think you are confusing my confident stride with strutting. You've got to remember that this is Denerim. We can't afford to have people thinking we're weak. A little swagger helps to ward off the wrong sort of attention."

"Ah…should I be strutting as well?"

Kallian knew when she was being teased, so she simply shrugged as she raked Leliana with an appraising glance. "I don't think you could pull it off."

Leliana laughed and shoved Kallian's shoulder playfully. Grinning as she recovered her balance, Kallian sidestepped to avoid a wooden cart that had been piled perilously high with turnips. She was glad that the bard had offered to come along. Walking these streets again also brought up a few old memories, and she had a feeling that she'd be brooding if Leliana wasn't here to lighten the mood.

Not only that, but having an elegant Orlesian woman at her side might prove to be useful where they were going. While the Gentleman might be the finest information broker in town, he had chosen a terrible place to establish his business. It wasn't a place that looked kindly on the rough-and-tough types.

"It is a strange and sad day," Leliana shook her head mournfully; a gesture that was ruined by the twinkle in her eye. "When a thief presumes to tell a bard what she can or cannot do. If I were so inclined, I could adopt a strut that would bring men to their knees."

"Eh, I don't know. I think the Chantry might have made you a little rusty."

The bard sniffed and turned up her nose. "I shall not even dignify that with a response."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about; a few years of soft living will put anyone off her game." Kallian linked arms with the human woman and steered her over in the direction of a few food merchants. "How about we get some food? It's all pretty good around here, and I'm buying."

"How could I possibly refuse such a charming offer?"

Denerim's market had just as many food merchants as Kallian remembered. The only real difference was that she now had the money to afford the delicacies that were on display. After perusing the various stalls for a few moments, they settled on a few freshly baked buns that had been stuffed with seasoned meat and thick gravy. Blowing on the piping hot buns in an attempt to cool them, the two of them ate the savory treats as they walked along the outskirts of the market. The food tasted absolutely wonderful, and Kallian downed it as fast as she could. Though Leliana was eating her own meal with more composure, it was clear from her soft noises of pleasure that she was enjoying it every bit as much as Kallian had.

Licking the last of the gravy off of her fingers, Kallian had to resist the urge to go back and buy several more. Instead, she turned her attention to the crowd that bustled about in the large pavilion. This early in the day, it was rare to see too many nobles in the city center. Most of the upper class lived in the highlands, and it generally took them a few hours to make it all the way down here. Until they arrived, the markets were usually just full of tradesmen, foreign merchants, and a scattering of Alienage elves.

Today however, Kallian couldn't seem to pick out a single elf amongst the entire crowd. Winters were usually lean in the Alienage, and it wouldn't surprise her if most of the elves were saving all their coin for extra firewood. It was a shame really; she had hoped to see a familiar face or two.

The thought gave her an idea. "Hey, Leliana?"

"Yes?"

"I was planning on going to see my father and cousins at some point," Kallian nervously lifted up a hand to adjust her bandana. "And the Alienage isn't too far away from where we are going to meet my contact. Do you think you might want to come along after we're done?"

Leliana glanced sidelong at her with a neutral expression "You're inviting me to meet your family?"

"Well…yeah."

"Are you sure that is what you want? I would have thought that you might wish to meet with them on your own. After all, an unannounced reunion is bound to stir up some powerful emotions between you and your loved ones. I'd understand if that was too personal for you to share with another."

Kallian hugged her arms against her chest and quirked her lips as she considered that. "It's funny, but that's sorta the opposite of what I'm worried about. Truth be told, the very idea of walking back into the Alienage by myself makes me feel all weird inside."

"Why is that?"

"Lotta memories in that place that I'm not sure I'm ready to face. Not only that, but I feel like I'm a completely different person than the girl that they knew. Hell, they're probably different people as well." Kallian let out a breath and looked over at Leliana. "Look, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I'd feel a million times better if you were there when I go."

"Will they care if you show up with me in tow?"

"I think that will be the last thing on their minds. Even if it does bother them, I'd rather be upfront than act like I'm ashamed of anything."

Leliana stopped walking to regard Kallian with a soft expression. After a few moments, she pulled Kallian into a quick hug and murmured softly against her hair. "Then I would be absolutely honored. It will be nice to see if your father is anything like what I picture him to be."

Aware that she had done something right, but not quite sure what exactly that was, Kallian returned the hug with a small smile. "Thanks, I think it'll be nice to see them all again."

What she didn't say aloud was that she also thought it was also going to be fucking awkward. Kallian had about a thousand things she needed to speak with her dad about, and a good half of those involved the human woman that was walking beside her. There wouldn't be an easy way to break the news to her father, but Kallian felt as though it was past time he learned that she went for sheaths instead of swords.

But even if _that_ conversation went well, there was still the small matter of her mother's relationship with Duncan. Thinking about how she was going to bring up that particular topic made her want to squirm. If her father knew about it, then it was bound to be a sore subject. If he didn't, than Kallian was basically going to have to tell him that her mother had been in love with someone else. Either way, it was bound to be a conversation full of awkwardness and pain. Were it not for the fact that she felt absolutely compelled to address it, she might be inclined to simply pretend that she had never heard Zathrian mention it.

"It'll be something to look forward to once we've finished with the task Alistair gave us." Leliana's voice jarred her from her reverie. "Speaking of which, I don't think you've told me where we are going to meet your friend. I've been envisioning a dark alley full of trash piles and large rats."

"We are going to go see the Gentleman."

"Ah-hah…and who might that be?"

Kallian smirked. "I don't want to spoil the surprise."

Flashing the bard her most mysterious smile, Kallian led the way out of the crowd and onto the main street that ran along the entire city's length. While there were a few shortcuts that would let them get to their destination a little quicker, Kallian decided to take the more scenic route. It would lead them into the nicer parts of the city, and she had a feeling that Leliana would enjoy the opportunity to see some of the classier shops that ran along the highland routes.

As soon as they had left the marketplace behind, she drew the hood of her cloak over her head. Outside of the relative anonymity of the crowd, she didn't want to draw too much attention to the fact that she was an elf. There were no specific laws stating that elves couldn't walk about freely, but sometimes a bored guard would decide to hassle a wayward elf for the hell of it. Considering that she had murdered an Arl's son a few short months ago, Kallian thought it best to avoid the City Guard as much as possible.

Thanks to Leliana however, they were attracting plenty of attention in spite of Kallian's efforts. Dressed in her distractingly tight leathers, the bard cut a striking picture as they made their way down the cobblestone street. Her red-hair had grown longer during their travels so that it now brushed along her shoulders in a soft curtain that practically glowed in the winter sunlight. She was stirringly beautiful, and looking at her made Kallian's chest feel tight with some nameless emotion.

For her part, Leliana seemed to be utterly captivated by the variety of stores that lined either side of the street. Now that they were in the highlands, the shops were catering to the posh lifestyle of the wealthy merchants and nobleman that made up the upper districts. Consequently, there were a number of confectionaries, perfumiers, and shops specializing in jewelry or glass trinkets. It was also heavily patrolled by the City Guard, and Kallian had learned to stay away from this area during her time as a pickpocket.

"Oh! Kallian, look!" Leliana caught hold of Kallian's forearm and jerked her to a halt. "We have to go in there!"

Leliana pointed out a small shop that was nestled in between two larger buildings. It didn't look particularly remarkable, and Kallian could only shrug helplessly when she saw what was displayed in the shop's front window. "What's so great about a shoe store?"

"Everything!"

The bard began marching across the street with Kallian's arm still clenched firmly in her grasp. Allowing herself to be dragged along, Kallian smiled thinly at the other woman's enthusiasm. "You are such an Orlesian."

Leliana laughed carelessly. "I shall take that as a the kindest of compliments."

They burst through the shop's door to find that it empty aside from the portly proprietor seated behind the store's wooden counter. Appearing more than a little startled by their abrupt entry, the human blinked owlishly at them before he could regain his composure. Placing his hands on the arms of his chair, he began to push himself to his feet with obvious reluctance.

"Welcome young ladies! How may I assist you today?"

"Please, do not get up on our account." Leliana waved him down hurriedly. "We simply wish to look around for a while. If we find anything to our liking, we'll let you know."

"Yes, yes…take your time." He settled back into his chair with a sigh of relief. "I'll be happy to answer any questions."

Kallian fought down a yawn as Leliana gazed about the store with a childish expression of glee. It looked as though the Orlesian woman wasn't quite sure where to even begin. Shaking her head slightly, Kallian glanced at the assortment of shoes without any real interest. Arranged atop an assortment of handsomely-carved wooden shelves, each individual pair was displayed on a small circle of white fabric. Though it seemed like they came in a wide variety of colors and styles, Kallian couldn't help but notice that they all looked distinctly impractical.

Leliana made a soft exclamation of delight as she picked up a forest-green slipper that had been carefully embroidered with slightly darker thread. Turning it every which way, Leliana held it up to the light to better examine the stitching. From his position behind the desk, the store's owner nodded in approval.

"The _madame _has exceptional taste. I just recently received those from a merchant based in Kirkwall. From what I have heard, they are the same style as those that the Viscount's mistress wore on the Saint's Day Feast. Very fashionable and reasonably priced at that."

Leliana gave him a beatific smile. "Is that so? I have always thought that green might be my color. What do you think, Kallian?"

"I think that it would be a little hard to walk twenty miles a day in those." Kallian folded her arms and smirked at the bard. "Besides, they're just shoes. It doesn't matter what color they are or who wore them at which event. Shoes are shoes."

"You see, this is why the rest of Thedas think you Fereldans are barbarians." Leliana pouted as she carefully returned the green shoe to its spot on the shelf. "Shoes are not "just" shoes. They can tell you more about a person than you could ever imagine. You can look at a person's shoes and know exactly what they value, and how they see themselves."

Kallian glanced down at her battered, fur-lined boots. "Uh-huh, and what do my shoes say about me?"

"That you're likely to be involved in a bar fight."

Tossing the other woman an amused look, Kallian stepped forward to examine the shoes more closely. Leliana apparently mistook this as a sign of interest, as she promptly led Kallian over to a small display stand in one corner of the shop.

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll find a pair that's absolutely perfect for you."

"When did I ever say I was looking for shoes? The only reason we're here is because _you_ wanted to look at the damn things."

Leliana either did not hear this, or chose to ignore it. Plucking up a leather shoe that seemed to be nothing more than a complex assortment of thin straps, she held it outstretched for Kallian's approval. "I've always liked Rivaini sandals. They look delicate, but they're much stronger than one would think. The only problem is that they are best-suited for people who spend their days walking along a beach. As Ferelden is primarily made up of mud and misery, I think we might have to pass."

"You're forgetting dog shit. We've got plenty of dog shit."

"Just so," Leliana smirked as she set the sandal back in its place. "Perhaps we should look at some of the Antivan boots. You'll find them to be tough enough for Ferelden, but much more aesthetically pleasing than those dreadful things you are wearing."

"I like these boots. They're warm."

That was the important thing in her opinion, but Leliana simply rolled her eyes before moving on to a different section of the store. As Leliana critically examined the rows of shoes, Kallian took a moment to notice that the store's owner was watching them carefully. She wondered what he thought about the two of them. Leliana looked and spoke like an Orlesian noblewoman, but Kallian probably cut a very different picture in her shabby grey cloak with the hood still pulled up.

"Oh my, would you look at that?" Leliana had stopped in front of one of the shelves with a wistful expression on her face. "I really can't believe this."

Kallian perked up in interest. "Can't believe what?"

"These shoes," Leliana had picked up a delicate pair of satin slippers that were a rich blue in color. Trimmed in gold thread and adorned with pale ribbons, the shoes were pretty even to Kallian's eye. "They look just like this pair I once saw in a delightful little shop in Arlesans. Shoes with these kinds of ribbons were considered terribly fashionable back then, and I had never seen anything like these in the capitol. I would have given anything to own them."

"Why didn't you buy them?"

Leliana shrugged with a distant look on her face. "I was working for Marjolaine and the opportunity did not present itself. We were forced to leave the city rather unexpectedly."

"So get them now."

"I don't know; they are probably a luxury we cannot afford." Leliana stared at the shoes with obvious longing. "Even though they are in my exact size."

Kallian turned and waved to get the attention of the shop keeper. "Hey, how much are these being sold for?"

"Ah, those are imported straight from Orlais." The man gave a self-important nod that made his jowls wobble. "They have a certain classic beauty that is appreciated among those with discerning tastes. I typically price shoes of that kind at seventy-five sovereigns a pair. However, I might be able to cut ten sovereigns off that listing for such pretty young women."

Turning to Leliana, Kallian muttered under her breath. "Holy shit, do they come with a suit of armor?"

"It's the price of quality." Leliana set the shoes back on the shelves with a sad smile. "Ah well, they are nothing but a passing fancy. I'd much rather we spend our coin on something that will be of actual use to us on the trail. Come over here, there are some nice boots that would suit you."

Kallian glanced back at the shoes that Leliana had been admiring even as the bard led her over to where the boots were kept. She wanted to get them for Leliana, but that type of money was not really within the scope of reason. Those shoes would likely end up being bought by some noblewoman with more gold than sense.

"We'll find you some with a fur-lining since winter will likely last for a few months yet." Leliana made a noise of consideration as she looked over the leather boots. "Ah, I like the ones with the ivy design. They have a touch of Dalish flair if you ask me. What do you think?"

"They do look kinda nice." Kallian readjusted her cloak as she spoke. It was much warmer inside of the store, and the hood was making her feel uncomfortably hot. Lowering it, she brushed an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and leaned in to get a better look. "I'm not sure if I need to buy a new pair, but I suppose that these ones would—"

"Oh no! No, no, no!"

The store owner's sudden shout made both Kallian and Leliana jump in surprise. Lurching to his feet with an ungainly heave, the man stomped his way around the counter with his face flushed in anger. Stabbing a finger at Kallian, he jerked his thumb towards the door.

"I'm not standing for this. Out with you."

Leliana looked to be utterly taken aback. "I beg your pardon, have we somehow caused offense?"

"This is a respectable business and I won't have elves running about as they please." The man made another insistent gesture in the direction of the doorway. "I let one of you in, and soon a flock of you sticky-fingered bastards will come rampaging through here."

Kallian slowly raised a hand to brush against the pointed tip of one of her long ears. Her hood had been hiding them all this time. It was odd to think that several months ago she would have known better than to try to step foot in a shop located in the middle of the highlands. Yet, here she had walked in without even thinking twice about it. She glanced at Leliana. "C'mon, let's go."

"No, this is ridiculous." Leliana stepped forward with her brows drawn tightly together. "She has money to pay with and has given you no cause for this behavior. What harm is there in allowing a customer to pay for a pair of boots?"

"None at all," He sniffed at her. "And you're more than welcome to buy whatever you want so long as your pet waits outside."

Leliana's eyes narrowed to thin slits and she moved forward with a dangerous growl. Deciding that it was best to end this before things got violent, Kallian placed a restraining hand on the bard's shoulder. "C'mon, it's really not worth it. Let's just go and take care of our other business."

Still glaring hotly at the proprietor, Leliana nodded stiffly. Resisting the powerful urge to shove over the man's display cases as she went, Kallian forced herself to walk unhurriedly towards the shop's exit with the bard following close behind. Opening the door, Kallian held it for Leliana before tossing the shop owner a look over her shoulder.

"By the way, I hope you outlive your children."

Savoring the shocked outrage that flashed across his florid features, Kallian stepped through the door and drew her hood back over her head. She shut the door behind her with more force than was strictly necessary, and after making sure that Leliana was following her, she began walking up the street at a brisk pace. They needed to put some distance between themselves and the shop as quickly as possible. There was no guarantee that the owner wouldn't send the guard after them out of spite.

"That…that was just horrible." The bard's voice was low and shaky with ill-suppressed anger as she drew up alongside Kallian. "I really can't believe that happened."

Kallian sighed and tried not to show the smoldering anger that had flared up inside her. She didn't care about the shoes, but the humiliation was rankling like a sore tooth. "It's plenty believable. I really should have seen that coming. Most of the shopkeepers around these parts don't let elves into their stores. They only make exceptions for servants dressed in the livery of a noble's house. Even then, they're usually forced to go around to the back to pick up orders."

"How is that possible? I thought Ferelden had laws to prevent such things from happening!"

"There are laws." Kallian nodded in agreement. "It's just that the guards don't really enforce them. If an elf ever pushed the issue, he or she would just be arrested on some bullshit charge like loitering. That's why I said it wasn't worth it."

Leliana shook her head in frustration. "I do not understand how you can be so calm about this? I'm on the verge of going back there to beat some manners into that horrid man."

Slowing down so that they were travelling at a more reasonable pace, Kallian took a few more calming breaths before giving the best reply she could. "Believe me, I'm plenty angry. But when it comes to dealing with shems, being thrown out of a shoe store is pretty small potatoes. There's nothing we could say or do to change that bastard's mind, so why even bother trying?"

"Because, that was wrong." Leliana made an impatient noise. "You don't deserve to be treated like a criminal just because you're an elf."

"In all fairness, I _am_ a thief."

Leliana frowned at her. "Don't try to pass this off like it was nothing."

"It _was _nothing." Kallian rolled her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "No one got hurt or thrown in prison. I can deal with some fat fuck thinking he's better than me."

"That doesn't make it right!"

Kallian didn't reply to that. Leliana's voice was a little too sharp, and the last thing she wanted was for the two of them to start fighting over something like this. In the interest of letting Leliana cool off a bit, she simply fell silent in the hopes of avoiding a confrontation. For a few long minutes, they trudged their way up the street without a word passing between them.

Altercations like the one they had just had at the shoe store were part of the reason Kallian had always hated meeting up with this particular contact. She understood the reasons why he insisted on being set-up in the wealthy part of town, but that didn't make getting to him any easier. She might have opted for a safer choice if it wasn't for the fact that the Gentleman could get his hands on more secrets than everyone else in city combined. Kallian needed information that wasn't exactly common knowledge, and he was definitely the best bet.

Besides that, the Gentleman was also an old friend.

Kallian looked up at Leliana to see that the other woman was still frowning at the cobblestones. Tired of the uncomfortable silence that was stretching between them, she reached over and casually caught Leliana's hand in her own. Interlacing their fingers, she smiled crookedly at Leliana.

"Hey, thanks for sticking up for me back there."

"I feel as though I didn't do enough." Leliana pursed her lips and shook her head. "Maker help me, but I wish we had done something much worse back there. Not hurt him necessarily, but perhaps we could have broken something expensive, or even started a small fire."

Kallian raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, but then you'd be burning up an entire store full of perfectly useless shoes."

Just as she'd hoped, the comment made Leliana laugh softly. Some of the tension eased out of the bard's shoulders, and Leliana glanced down at their clasped hands. "Upsetting as that prospect may be, I feel as though it would have been worth it."

"It would have been too much work." Kallian dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "I did like the angry growling though, that was kinda hot."

"Is that so? Well, at least it accomplished something then."

They shared a smile that chased away most of the lingering uneasiness between them. The shoe store had been a bad experience, but Kallian hadn't been lying when she had said that it wasn't a big deal. Sure, the owner had been a twat, but his was the prevailing sentiment in this city. Kallian was used to this kind of thing, and she wasn't going to let it ruin an otherwise pleasant outing.

A minute later, she smirked when she finally caught sight of their destination. Lifting her free hand, Kallian pointed towards an elegant building off to the right-hand side of the road. "Here's an idea, let me buy you a drink."

"It's barely midmorning." Leliana scrunched up her brow in confusion.

"This is where we're meeting up with the contact." Kallian tugged Leliana over to the right. "Besides that, this place also serves the best apple cider in the city. It's freshly pressed every day if the barmaids are to be believed."

The building in question was a large tavern that was built from light-grey blocks of carved stone. Kallian didn't have much of an eye for architecture, but she had always thought that the tavern had a charming quality about it. With its red roof and thick oak door, it reminded her of the cottages that dotted Denerim's countryside. Though they stood bare and empty for the moment, the wide planter boxes that adorned each of the windowsills would be filled with bright flowers once spring had arrived. Above the doorway, a painted sign proudly proclaimed it be "The Hop's Harvest."

Leliana stared up at the building with obvious skepticism. "This is not quite what I expected."

"See? I go to nice places every once in a while." Kallian pulled off her hood as they entered the tavern. There was no chance of being thrown out of this particular bar. "You'll love it in here. It's damn good food and the owner and I go way back."

Indoors, the Hop's Harvest was even more inviting. The large common room was furnished with a glossy floor of stained oak that gleamed in light from the fireplace. A little less than a score of round tables had been set up in the wide space, and the chairs were all fitted with comfortable-looking cushions. The tavern's bar stretched along the entire western wall. A handsome piece of dark wood, the bar had been carefully polished to give it a mirror's shine. To complete the picture, the other three walls had a number of recessed booths to foster a sense of intimacy.

Perhaps as a result of the early hour, the tavern was mostly empty when Kallian and Leliana walked inside. From behind the bar, a young man with hair so blond it was almost white nodded cheerfully and told them to take a seat wherever they would like. Thanking him, Kallian led Leliana over to one of the booths that was set into the far wall.

"You're right, I rather like this place." Leliana was admiring the elegant common room with an expression of approval.

"It's not as famous as the Gnawed Noble," Kallian slid in next to Leliana so that they were sitting on the same side of the table. "But the food and drink is much better. Plus, you can actually hear yourself think in here."

Kallian took a few moments to survey the common room to make sure that there was no cause for concern. This wasn't the type of place the guards hung about, but there was always the off chance that one had come in here to grab a hot meal. Seeing no obvious threats, Kallian let her gaze linger on a table of three young men dressed in richly-tailored clothing. The Hop's Harvest was higher-end, but it didn't typically cater to the nobles. Her guess was that they were the sons of some of the wealthier merchants.

They had scarcely sat down when one of the tavern's barmaids walked over with a beaming smile. "Good morning ladies, what can I offer you today?"

"We'll take two ciders with a plate of bread and bacon." Kallian returned the human girl's smile with one of her own. It had only been a half-hour since she and Leliana had eaten breakfast, but Kallian was still feeling hungry. The cook at the Hop's Head was a surly bastard, but he sure as hell knew his business.

"Wonderful, will that be all for you today?"

"There's actually one more thing you could do for me." Kallian folded her hands in front of her and casually glanced up at the girl. "Tell the Gentleman that Merlin wants a word with him."

The barmaid's expression never even flickered. Nodding enthusiastically, she gave no sign that Kallian had even spoken. "Alright, so we have two fresh apple ciders and a plate of bread and bacon. That'll be out before you know it."

After flashing them another brilliant smile, the barmaid turned on her heel and strode off to presumably fill their order. As she turned back to face Leliana, Kallian noticed that bard was struggling to suppress a smile. Resting her face on her palm, Leliana regarded her with dancing eyes. "Merlin? As in the bird?"

"It's a code name. I didn't choose it." Kallian felt herself flush. "I wanted to be called the Fox or something like that. Instead I got a goddamn pigeon hawk."

Leliana grinned. "I like it. It suits you."

"Maybe, but my crew chose it 'cause they thought it was funny that I was so small."

"I never had a code name, myself." Leliana seemed a little put out at the thought. "Marjolaine and I never stayed in one place long enough for it to matter. A shame really, I think that there is a wealth of apt nicknames for a bard with red hair. Perhaps I could have been called the Scarlet Singer."

Kallian nodded slowly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Jealousy is an ugly color on you."

Snickering, Kallian watched as the barmaid suddenly reappeared with a platter balanced on one hand. The girl hurried over to their table and set down a large plate of toasted bread and bacon that was still sizzling from the skillet. Their mugs of cider soon followed, and the girl bustled off to help some of the other customers.

The food looked amazing, and Kallian picked up a piece of bread eagerly. It could sometimes take a while to get in contact with the Gentleman, but she was more than willing to wait a while so long as there was bacon at her disposal. Draining a healthy measure of her cider, she glanced over to see that Leliana wasn't eating.

"What's wrong? Not hungry?"

"No, I'm afraid that one breakfast is enough for me." Leliana took a delicate sip from her own cup. "Besides that, I fear that incident with the shoe merchant has left me without appetite."

Kallian studied a piece of bacon that suddenly seemed very interesting. "You can't let it bother you. Things like that happen every once in a while."

"You say that, but I'm certain that you must feel much more strongly about this. No one could experience such things and not feel tremendous resentment."Leliana shook her head and shrugged ruefully." I suppose that I always knew that elves were treated poorly, but I had never actually seen it on a personal level. If I were in your place, I would hate the people who treated me in that manner."

"Trust me, you get used to it after a while."

Leliana seemed to consider this for a moment. Fiddling with her hands, the bard gave Kallian a shy look. "Do you? Hate us, I mean."

Kallian slowly chewed another bite of bread as she considered Leliana's question. There wasn't really a simple answer that she could give. On one hand, it was impossible for her to say that she truly hated humans considering the fact that she now considered a group of them to be allies and even friends. But, humans had been the cause of too much misery in her life for her to ever look at them with unbiased eyes. Deciding to tell the truth, she swallowed her mouthful of bread and shrugged.

"Sometimes."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Not surprised, but I am sorry." Leliana dropped her gaze to the tabletop. "My only hope is that you realize that we are not all like that man in the shop. There a plenty of humans in this world who are kind and generous with their neighbors regardless of race. I saw many such people amongst the farmers at Lothering."

Kallian tried to give her a reassuring smile. "I'm not so far gone as to think that all shems are alike. After all, you, Alistair, and the others have always done right by me. The problem is that there seems to be a lot more people like that shop owner than there are like you. It's hard to look past that."

"I would imagine so."

Not wanting to leave it at that, Kallian tried to put a positive spin on things. "You know, I never really spent much time with any shems before this whole Blight thing got started. I worked with a few of them, but mostly I stayed out of their way and they returned the favor. Until I joined up with the Grey Wardens, I lived my entire life around other elves."

"Oh?" The bard looked curious. "Are we what you expected?"

"Not really, no. I spent the first few weeks waiting for one of you to ask me to clean your tent or some shit." Kallian took another sip of cider and savored the crisp bite of the drink. "I had even practiced a speech to give when that happened. It was a good one too; lot's of yelling."

Leliana gave her a tentative smile. "I'm sorry we missed it."

"Same here, but my point is that I turned out to be wrong. I went and assumed that you were all going to be a bunch of sodding arseholes. When I think about it, that's no better than what that shoe seller did to us."

"I feel as though that is overstating things just a little." Leliana covered on of Kallian's hands with her own. "It is an interesting thought, however. The Chant of Light asks us to treat all men as equals. While it is a wonderful sentiment, I fear that none of us are perfect. Perhaps we simply have to strive to be better than we once were."

Kallian grinned. "So, what you're saying is that the two of us need to work on elf and human relations?"

"It couldn't hurt."The bard flashed Kallian a mischievous look. "We might have to discuss this more in private."

Before Kallian could think up a clever reply to that, a human man approached their booth and slid into the seat across from them. Taken off guard by his abrupt arrival, Kallian nonetheless smiled when she saw who had joined them.

The man was large in every sense of the word. With his blocky jaw and overly large nose, the man gave the impression that he had been carved out of coarse stone. The finely tailored doublet he was wearing was stretched tightly over arms and shoulders layered with the thick muscle that only came from working years of hard labor. Though his bright blue-eyes and sandy hair suggested at youth, his advancing years were apparent in the lines on his face, and in the way his impressive build was slowly giving way to fat.

Extending one scarred hand across the table, the man leaned forward and bared his teeth in a wide grin. "Kallian Tabris…as I live and breathe."

"Slim Couldry; you're looking well." Kallian smiled back at him as she took his hand and shook it firmly. "Although, I'm kinda surprised to see that this shithole is still in business. I thought the highlands were supposed to have standards."

Slim barked a laugh. "Ha! Good to see you're still the same. I was worried the outside world might have changed the tough little bitch who tried to lift my purse all those years ago."

"You knew I was gone?"

"I know everything, Kallian. That's my business." Slim gave her a chastising look before letting his gaze slip to Leliana. "Although, I will admit that I was unaware of your return. Imagine my surprise when one of my waitresses told me that Merlin was sitting in my tavern."

Kallian belatedly realized she had forgotten to make introduction. "Slim, this is Leliana. She's a friend and no stranger to the trade. Leliana, this is Slim Couldry. I worked for him before I had to leave Denerim. Around here, he's known as the Gentleman."

Leliana smiled and held out her hand. "It's wonderful to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." Slim lifted her hand a placed a courtly kiss on the back of her palm. "An Orlesian is it? I'd love to learn how the two of you got to working with one another. Kallian didn't tend hang around with such elevated company while she was working for me."

"A rather odd statement coming from a man nicknamed the Gentleman."

Slim uttered another sharp laugh. "I ain't a noble. The sodding bastards that I work with think it's funny that I'm set up in the highlands like a respectable individual. I kept telling them that it's just to keep an eye on the real nobles, but the name stuck."

Kallian grinned and pinched the fabric of his sleeve. "I like your shirt. It's very fancy."

"Fuck off with yourself." He looked entirely unruffled by her teasing. Helping himself to some of her bacon, Slim smiled cheerfully. "So then, I'm assuming you didn't come here just to grace me with your presence. What can I do for you? Looking to get back into the trade?"

"Not quite, I'm actually here for some information."

Slim raised his eyebrows. "Looking for a new mark or something more personal?"

"I'm trying to find two people." Kallian pulled one of her money pouches off of her belt and tossed it on top of the table. "One of them disappeared without a trace a few weeks ago. The other is supposed to be hiding out in some part of the city. I want to know as much as possible about both of them."

Utterly ignoring what she had said, Slim simply nodded at the pouch she had put on the table. "And just what in the sodding hell is that?"

"Payment."

"You trying to insult me?" Slim slid the pouch back at her. "I've told you before, your coin is no good around here. Not after what you did."

Kallian narrowed her eyes. "I don't like favors, Slim."

"Then it isn't a favor. It's repayment for you saving my skin."

"All I did was pass along a rumor." Kallian folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. "Besides, you would have found a way to wriggle your way out of there even if I hadn't told you. All I did was save you a little bit of trouble."

"Maybe, and maybe I'd have ended up dancing at the end of rope. The point is you stuck your neck out, and I'm not taking your sodding money."

Kallian tried to stare him down. As always, Slim was as immovable as a fucking rock when it came to things like this. Finally giving up with a sigh, Kallian dragged a hand down her face. "Fine, we'll do it your way. I appreciate it Slim."

"Don't even mention it." He clapped his hands and smiled at the both of them. "Right, I'm gonna need a little more than what you gave me if we're going to actually find these two. Let's start with the one who disappeared. That sounds plenty interesting."

Taking a moment to stash her coin purse somewhere safe, Kallian looked over at Leliana. The bard was watching them quietly, but there was a kind of amused interest in her eyes that told Kallian that Leliana was enjoying herself. She turned back to Slim and rested her elbows on the table.

"I've never met him personally, but he is a lay-brother of the Chantry by the name of Genitivi. From what I can understand, he's also a big deal because he's written a couple books. Anyway, he's got a house near the Gnawed Noble that's practically deserted. A couple knights from Redcliffe came to look for him a few weeks ago, but Genitivi has vanished without a trace."

Slim held up a hand to stop her. Signaling to the barmaid that had served him earlier, Slim waited until she brought him a small notebook and a charcoal pencil. Opening the book, he began to write down what she had said. "Do you have any idea why he might have been snatched?"

"I don't even know if he was. He might just be dead." Kallian shrugged. "If he is in trouble, my guess is that it's because he is supposed to be searching for the Sacred Ashes."

He snorted derisively. "That old mummer's tale?"

"Some people don't think it's just a story."

"Well, if he's famous, then there's bound to be a few people who've noticed his absence. I'll put out feelers in the Chantry and with some of the local book worms." Slim was still writing furiously in his notebook. "You know I've never condoned kidnapping, but I'm on decent terms with a few snatch crews. If they picked him up, I'll be able to find out."

"Thanks, Slim."

He finished writing and then turned the page. "Alright, that's enough about him. Who's this other person you're looking for?"

Leliana leaned forward. "A bard named Marjolaine."

Slim paused, and then looked up from his notebook. Squinting over at Leliana, he frowned and scratched the side of his jaw. "I don't suppose you mean that she's a minstrel."

"Sadly, no I do not." Leliana raised her glass of cider but didn't take a sip. "Marjolaine is the type of bard you wouldn't want to have in your tavern."

"Kallian Tabris, what in the blighted hell have you been getting into?" Slim set down the pencil and gave Kallian an accusatory glare. "Killing the son of an Arl, disappearing with a Grey Warden, and now coming back to tell me you're looking for a Chantry brother and a sodding bard? Do even you remember what I used to tell you?"

Kallian nodded. "That little elves should stay out of big trouble. I always thought you were a dick for saying it."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't good advice." He frowned at her, but picked up the pencil again. "If you weren't so damn stubborn you might see that. Ah hell with it, tell me about the bard."

"The last time she was seen, Marjolaine had brown hair that she preferred to wear shoulder-length. She has hazel eyes and a heavy accent. She also speaks Antivan and Rivaini fluently." Leliana spoke softly as she watched Slim write. "She weighs approximately ten stones and stands five feet eleven inches. She's never lives in anything short than luxury, and her preferred weapon is a dagger coated in deathroot extract. Her only regular companion is a eunuch named Marcel. He's nearly seven feet tall, so he should stand out."

Slim raised an eyebrow as he took this down. "Do you know what her favorite food is as well?"

"Roasted duck."

He laughed and favored Leliana with a grin. "I knew I'd like you."

"How soon can you have this information?" Kallian ate the last bit of bread and drained her cider. "I know you don't like being rushed, but my friends and I don't have much time."

Slim considered this for a moment. "I can get you the information on Genitivi in two day's time at the most. It will likely be quicker than that, but two days is the only guarantee I'll give you. The bard will be trickier. I'm not going to take any risks around someone like that. If she's in the city, two weeks is likely the best I can do."

Kallian shared a glance with Leliana. They had hoped to be able to track down Marjolaine while they were in the city, but now that prospect was looking rather unlikely. Leliana tilted her head in a short nod before turning to Slim. "That sounds fine."

"Wonderful, how about I leave the information in your old dead drop?"

Kallian smirked. "It'll be just like old times. But do me a favor; hold on to whatever you find out about Marjolaine. We'll come back for that personally."

"I'll look forward to it then."

Slim stood up from the table and Kallian mirrored the motion. After waiting for Leliana to climb out of the booth, she turned to Slim and stuck out her hand. "I really do appreciate the help, Slim. You have no idea how nice it is to see a familiar face."

"Take care of yourself out there." He shook her hand and then kissed Leliana's palm once more. "I assume the two of you are going to see some of the lovely sights of the city? Word has it that a traveling mummer's troupe has set up in the markets. They're supposed to be halfway decent as well."

"As tempting as that sounds, we're actually planning on going to the Alienage. It's been a long time since I've seen my family."

"…The Alienage?" Slim's smile slid off his blocky features. His voice suddenly became a great deal more hesitant. "Kallian…have you …uh, have you heard?"

Kallian blinked. "Heard what?"

"Oh, bloody hell." He pinched the bridge of his wide nose. "I'm such a fucking twat. Of course you wouldn't know."

An uneasy sense of foreboding crawled up her spine. Slim Couldry was many things, but he never indulged in unnecessary drama. This was the first time she had ever seen him look truly uncomfortable at the prospect of a discussion. "What's this about, Slim?"

"You might want to take a seat, lass. This isn't going to be to your liking."

...

xxXxx

* * *

So, while beta-ing this, I realized that the scene with Slim Couldry was one of my favorites out of the entire story. I'm not entirely sure why, but I really liked the way that one turned out.

Thank you kindly to all of you wonderful readers. Your feedback is always much appreciated, and I'd love it if you would take the time to leave a review. Every time one of you leaves a review, a puppy is rescued from the pound*.

Btw, i forgot to mention last time, but I really liked the anonymous review that described me a troll writer. If you think that was bad, wait until you see the long-term trolling I've got planned. It's basically where I write all the way up to penultimate chapter and then never update again. It's a great troll, because no one wins.**

*This is a lie.

**I'm not actually going to do this...probably.


	28. Great Expectations

Chapter 28: Great Expectations

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

…

Alistair was feeling optimistic in spite of his spectacular failure.

Stepping through the narrow entryway that led into the concealed safe-house, he shed his cloak and dropped it over the back of the nearest chair. His visit with the local branch of Templars had not gone very well at all. Their commander had proven to be an uncommonly suspicious man with very poor social skills. No matter what Alistair had said, the commander had absolutely refused to divulge anything about the location of a member of the clergy. After arguing with him for the better part of twenty minutes, Alistair had given up any hope of getting anything useful from the Chantry's soldiers.

That didn't concern him overly much. The commander had sounded very official, but he had also mispronounced Genitivi's name several times during their conversation. More likely than not, the man probably hadn't ever heard of a Brother Genitivi until Alistair had walked though his door.

With any luck, the others would have much more success in their own pursuits. Kallian and Leliana were out meeting with a criminal of some sort, and Wynne had raced off to the Chantry an hour before first light. He wasn't entirely certain where Sten was, but Zevran was supposed to be checking up on the lay-brother's house today.

That left Morrigan and Oghren manning the safe-house while the others were away. Sitting at the room's table with her nose buried in her mother's spell book, the witch didn't even bother to look up when he walked in. For his part, Oghren was face-down on one of the beds and snoring louder than Alistair would have thought possible. The only living thing in the room that did acknowledge his presence was Kallian's dog. Sleeping atop of the elf's bed, the animal opened one eye and smacked its chops when he passed by.

Pausing just long enough to ruffle the Mabari's ears, Alistair continued walking until he reached his own bunk. He hadn't really expected to be done with his task this quickly, and his plans for the rest of the day were rather limited. Wandering aimlessly around the marketplace might have been a good way to pass the time if it weren't for the weather. Alistair actually liked the cold, but today it felt like the breath was going to freeze in his lungs.

He took a seat on the edge of his bunk and pulled his backpack over to his side. As he had nothing better to do, he decided that he could work on the wooden horse he had been carving over the last few weeks. It was shaping up to be one of his best, but he didn't really know what he was going to do with it once he had finished. Maybe he'd give it to Sten. The big guy had expressed an interest in Fereldan art during one of the night watches they had shared.

Rummaging through the pack as he tried to find the carving, Alistair paused when his fingers brushed against a familiar square of folded paper. He slowly pulled the note from his pack and regarded it with a surge of guilt. There was no need to open it; he had long since memorized the words that were written on the expensive paper.

_3__rd__ St. Turn right off the main road. Seventh house on the left. Her name is Goldanna._

Alistair gently stroked the folded note with his thumb. He still didn't know why Eamon had given it to him all those years ago. On the day Alistair had set off for Templar training, the Arl had simply pressed the note into his hand and told him that he had a sister.

Ever since, the note had nagged him like a hard-to-reach itch. It was hard to say how many times he had mentally played out the conversation he would like to have with his estranged sibling. Of course, the thought of actually meeting her made him feel like his stomach was tightening into knots. He wasn't quite sure what he was so afraid of, but part of him had been relieved to have obligations that precluded him from actually seeking her out. It had been easier to ignore his own cowardice when he didn't have a say in the matter.

Now though, there was nothing Alistair could use as an excuse. If he were a braver man, he'd already be knocking on his sister's door.

Sighing, he closed his fist around the slip of paper and lowered it to his side. The rational portion of his mind knew that this was nothing to be worried about. The worst case scenario would be that his sister no longer lived at the address Eamon had given him. Even if that happened, he'd just be right back at where he had started.

On the other hand, there was a good chance that he would have the opportunity to meet his family. Surely, that had to be worth risking some disappointment. He might make a fool of himself, but he'd still feel better knowing that his sister was at least aware of his existence.

"Ah, screw it." He muttered under his breath as he shoved his pack away. "You can do this, Alistair. You'll thank yourself later."

Impromptu pep talk completed, Alistair reluctantly pushed himself off the bed and got to his feet. Duncan had always said that it was better to act than to waste time worrying about the consequences. Alistair didn't want to spend the rest of his life wondering about what could have been. It was time he manned up and took a chance with his future.

The only problem was that he really, really didn't want to do that alone.

Smiling at how ridiculous he was being, Alistair glanced around the safe-house as he tried to think of someone he could ask to go along with him. Oghren would make the worst first impression imaginable, and Zevran would probably end up trying to sleep with his sister. Sten was also not an option unless Alistair was looking to terrify Goldanna into loving him. He supposed that he could have asked Wynne, but he felt like that would be a little weird. Wynne kinda exuded motherly concern, and Alistair just knew he'd get all self-conscious if she was in the room when he finally met his sister.

Unfortunately, the two best choices were currently unavailable. Kallian was prickly at the best of times, but he truly believed that she'd come through for him if he asked. Likewise, he knew Leliana would leap at the chance to do something kind for another person. While he could wait until they came back from wherever they had wandered off to, Alistair was afraid he'd lose his nerve if he didn't do this right now.

Which left only one other possible option.

Slowly turning his head to stare at Morrigan's back, Alistair shook his head in resignation. "Oh, this is such a bad idea."

Yet, at the same time, it wasn't _that_ crazy when he actually thought about it. Sure, Morrigan was an ill-tempered apostate who actively despised him, but she was also somewhat civilized in her own swampy-witch way. She probably wouldn't embarrass him like Zevran or Oghren, and she was marginally less scary than Sten. The best part was that she already thought he was the lowest thing on this planet; so even if things were tremendously awkward with Goldanna, Alistair didn't have to worry about losing status in her eyes.

That wasn't to say that it was an ideal situation. There were plenty of ways Morrigan could sabotage his efforts just by being herself. However, when it actually came down to it, his immediate choices were between her, a drunken dwarf, and a dog. Of the three, only one of them was unlikely to vomit on his sister's floor.

With that in mind, Alistair squared his shoulders and walked back towards the table. Part of him was still convinced that this was one of the worst decisions he had ever made, but all he needed was for the witch to stand there when he went. She didn't have to say or do anything. He just needed some moral support on the most basic of levels.

Sliding into a chair opposite Morrigan, Alistair plastered on a winning smile. "Hey, Morrigan? I have a favor to ask you."

The words didn't seem to even register with the witch. Without some much as glancing up, she turned a page and resumed reading. After a few moments of awkwardly fiddling with his fingers, Alistair bit his lip and decided to give it another go.

"Uh…Morrigan?"

He might have well tried to get an answer from one of the walls. Frowning at the book that was hiding her face from view, Alistair put some authority into his tone.

"Morrigan!"

The book lowered to reveal two yellow eyes that glared balefully back at him. "What?"

"Like I said, I have a favor to ask." He forced himself to smile as he adopted the friendliest tone he could manage. "If it's not too much trouble, I could really use your help with something."

Morrigan raised her book to cover her face once again. "'Tis spelled: A-L-I-S-T-A-I—."

"Ha, because I'm dumb, right?" Alistair cut her off with a smirk. Even if Morrigan's humor was almost always at his expense, he could appreciate funny when he heard it. "But seriously now, I've got a personal errand to run and I'd really appreciate it if you came along."

"No."

Alistair sighed. "C'mon, it won't take much more than an hour and you don't even really have to do anything. I just want someone else to be there when I actually meet her. Don't ask me why, but I've convinced myself that it will be less awkward that way."

"Her?" Morrigan's eyes reappeared over the spine of the book. "Exactly what type of 'personal errand' are you attempting to involve me in?"

Sensing that he had piqued her curiosity, Alistair lightly smacked himself on the forehead. "Oh right, I never really explained this to all of you. A few years back, the Arl of Redcliffe gave me the address of a woman in this city. He said she was my half-sister and that she was unaware that I exist."

"And you wish to meet this woman?" Morrigan fixed him with a penetrating stare. "What would the point of that be? 'Twould seem to me that you are no closer to her than you are to any random stranger on the street."

"She's my sister."

"With whom you share no tangible connection. The label is meaningless without the experiences to go along with it."

He shrugged and tried not to let her words bother him. "Maybe so, but I feel as though this is something I have to do for myself. Anyway, all I'm asking is that you come along just to provide a little backup. If you want, you could even bring the book with you."

The witch watched him suspiciously for a few beats before closing her spell book and setting it off to the side. Folding her arms across her chest, Morrigan regarded him in a way that reminded him of a large bird of prey. "Why put this request to me? The two of us are hardly on good terms. Surely you have better friends amongst the others."

Alistair may not be the smoothest man alive, but he even knew better than to tell answer that question in a completely truthful manner. Instead, he decided to see if he couldn't touch on Morrigan's ego just a little. "If I had asked the others, they would have coddled me or tried to give me advice on how to do things. This is hard enough for me without having anyone else complicating it."

"Which led you to ask me?" Morrigan didn't quite smile, but her lips did curve just slightly. "I will allow that some of them do have the tendency to intrude where they are not welcome."

Alistair fought to keep his expression composed. "Yes, and aside from that, I want to make the right impression when I finally do meet her. Kallian's a good friend, but I don't think I want to walk into my sister's house with a thief who uses obscenities like they're going out of style."

For a moment, he was afraid that he had laid it on too thickly. Luckily for him, Morrigan seemed to be pleased with the implication that she made a good first impression. Idly noting that the witch wasn't immune to compliments, Alistair hid a smile behind his hand.

Morrigan seemed to have a brief internal deliberation before she finally nodded. "Very well, I shall accompany you if you are willing to do something for me in turn."

"Oh, and what's that?"

She waved a hand airily. "I desire a magical substance that will almost certainly be available in this 'magic shop' that everyone speaks of. As I have no money of my own, I will need you to purchase it for me. My opinion is that 'tis a small thing to ask compared to your request."

"That sounds reasonable enough. We can stop by the Wonders of Thedas before we go searching for my sister." Alistair felt a powerful sense of relief now that Morrigan had agreed. Then, an unsettling thought passed through his mind. "Err…any idea how much this will cost? It'll be fine if we are talking about lyrium dust or something, but if you need a still-beating dragon heart we are going to have a problem."

Morrigan smirked at him. "Have no fear, 'tis a common substance that simply requires a great deal of patience to produce. If this shop is anything like it claims to be, 'twill stock them in relative abundance."

"Alright then, it's a deal." He held out his hand to shake, and wasn't particularly surprised when Morrigan ignored it. "I was hoping to leave fairly soon. Is that going to be alright with you?"

"I have no argument. Let us get this over with."

The witch immediately rose from her seat and slid her spell book back into the woven bag she carried slung across one shoulder. Turning on her heel, she stalked off in the direction of the bed she had chosen for herself. Alistair pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet at a much more leisurely pace. Remembering just how cold it had been outside, he plucked his cloak off of the back of the chair and fastened it about his shoulders.

When Morrigan returned with her staff in hand, Alistair noticed something that gave him pause. In spite of the fact that they had been travelling all over Fereldan in the middle of winter, Morrigan had neglected to adjust her eccentric wardrobe. The skimpy assortment of scarves and leather bindings she wore hardly seemed like it would be warm enough on the hottest day of summer. It certainly couldn't be comfortable when the weather was a miserable as it was today.

"Do you want to borrow a spare cloak or something? I picked up an extra one in Redcliffe that I haven't even worn yet. You're welcome to it if you want something warmer." He gestured in the vague direction of his bunk with another attempt at a friendly smile. Though his education had been eclectic at best, both Arl Eamon and the Templars had always stressed the importance of being a gentleman.

Morrigan barely glanced at him. "I do not feel the cold."

"Ah…creepy."

Smirking when she shot him an irritated glare, Alistair checked to see that his knife was still on his belt. While he would have liked to have carried his sword, he wasn't entirely sure about the city's attitude towards weapons. Kallian had said that plenty of the nobles carried blades, but Alistair was concerned that the guards might pay more attention to someone with a broadsword strapped to his back. Satisfied that he at least had the dagger if things got hairy, Alistair turned and made for the exit of the safe-house.

He stopped just short of the passageway and stared over at where Oghren was still sleeping. Frowning to himself, Alistair gave Morrigan a pointed look and jerked her head in the direction of the dwarf. "You think we should wake him? One of the others might need someone to open the warded door while we are out."

"Oh, I doubt we need to worry overly much about that." Morrigan bared her teeth in a sharp smile as she brushed past him. Stepping into the passageway that led into the warehouse, she looked back at him over her shoulder. "The creature will wake soon enough. Once he does, I suspect he will have difficulty finding sleep for quite some time."

Hurrying after her, Alistair furrowed his brow. "What makes you say that?"

"Simple really, I know it to be true because I poisoned his beer."

That made Alistair do a quick double-take as they weaved their way through the stacks of crates that made up the front warehouse. "You what!"

"I poured a sizeable measure of ground _yurt _root into that disgusting swill he drinks. After the offense he caused me last night, I felt as though 'twould be a suitable retaliation." Morrigan sounded inordinately pleased with herself. "'Tis a shame we have to leave so quickly. I would have greatly enjoyed the opportunity to gauge his initial reaction."

Alistair caught hold of her arm just before they reached the door that would take them into the markets. "Hold up, what the hell is _yurt _root? This better not be something that can kill him."

"Fear not, the root is typically boiled to alleviate headaches. 'Tis also a very mild diuretic." She tugged free of his grasp and opened the door. A burst of frigid wind swept into the warehouse and Alistair shivered as he followed Morrigan outside. True to her word, Morrigan barely seemed to notice the sudden chill as she continued speaking without the slightest pause. "_Yurt _is almost completely harmless in even large doses."

Shrugging, Alistair furrowed his brow in confusion. "Well, I guess you showed him then."

"'Tis not harmful, unless 'tis mixed with significant amounts of alcohol. Then, the root has a tendency to cause pronounced stomach cramps, bouts of dizziness, and temporary impotence." Morrigan ticked these off like an overeager student answering a teacher's question. "Additionally, I've heard tell that the most dramatic side effect is excruciating urination."

"That's…_so_ not okay, Morrigan."

"Would you have preferred I settled this using magic? You were the one who was so concerned about the Templars."

Alistair shook his head as he drew up alongside her. "I would have preferred you to deal with this by talking to Oghren and settling your differences like someone who isn't completely crazy. That would have been the ideal outcome in my mind."

"'Tis impossible to hold a conversation with that creature. This way, he will simply have an unpleasant evening, and I will be satisfied."

"It concerns me that you actually think you're showing restraint here." Alistair sighed and wondered if there was an appropriate way to deal with casual poisoning. "You really can't go around putting things in people's drinks to make a point. That's not how things are done in among civilized folk."

"How is it any different than raising a hand to resolve a dispute? As I recall, 'twas not so long ago that you and Kallian were at one another's throats."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, and that was wrong. We talked it over afterwards, and that worked out much better. So, maybe you should have spoken with Oghren before resorting to something like poison. That's a much more constructive course of action."

"Perhaps, but I prefer my approach. It amuses me."

"You're missing the point."

She made a dismissive sound that told Alistair that he wasn't getting through to her. Deciding to revisit this issue once they had returned to the safe-house, Alistair made a mental note to watch his drinks whenever Morrigan was about. The idea of excruciating urine was really enough to make anyone paranoid.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute…that food poisoning I had a few weeks ago…how come no one else got it?"

Morrigan smirked.

…

xxXxx

Less than twenty minutes later, they left the Wonders of Thedas and began working their way towards the center of the city. Though much of Denerim was set up in a chaotic mess of side streets and back alleys, the larger roadways were identified by either letters or numbers depending on whether they bisected the city vertically or horizontally. From his cursory examination of the city, Alistair had the possibly incorrect notion that 3rd St. was located relatively close to the city's Chantry.

Morrigan was looking positively cheerful as they passed through the boisterous confusion of the markets. She had found her magical item: a small rock that had glowed with an ominous purple light. Though Alistair hadn't really liked the looks of it, he had been happy to hear that the rock had only cost a couple of sovereigns. After being assured by the vendor that it wasn't a harmful substance, Alistair had bought it for her with nothing more than a shrug.

"So, what's that thing for anyway?" His question wasn't fueled by curiosity so much as it was by a desire to avoid silence. Now that they were actually moving towards his sister's house, his stomach felt like it was flipping over on itself.

She gave him a lazy smile. "Do you truly wish to know?"

"Sure do. I want to be ready if you're planning on using that sparkly rock to blow up an orphanage or something."

"Then you will be disappointed to learn that 'tis a most uninteresting component of magic. The lodestone is simply a substance that facilitates the transfer of power from a source to a receiver." Morrigan swirled a hand in the air to punctuate her words. "Think of it as the fulcrum that allows the lever to function properly."

"Uh-huh, so why do you need a fulcrum?"

A complex expression drifted over the witch's exotic features. Turning her head away from him, Morrigan replied in an off-handed tone. "That is for another day."

"Fair enough," Alistair watched her out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention to the wooden road signs that were tacked to the sides of buildings. They were approaching 3rd street far faster than he would have thought possible. "So, I think it's about time we got our story straight."

Morrigan stared at him blankly. "Our story?"

"You know, about what we're going to say to my sister. I don't want her to think that I'm imposing myself on her life, so maybe it's best that we pretend like we're on official Warden business." He tapped a finger against his lips as he tried to think of a good cover story. "How about we say that we are investigating something? That way, I can just pretend to suddenly recognize her after a bit."

"How would you suddenly recognize someone you have never met?"

"Well, there's got to be a family resemblance or something." Alistair waved a hand irritably as they made their way down the central street. The city's Chantry was coming into view, and he was painfully aware that they were running out of time. "What's it matter anyway? Just go along with whatever I say."

"As you wish, I care not." Morrigan replied in a breezy tone. "I was simply curious as to why you feel it necessary to lie to your sister upon meeting her. 'Twould seem to be a poor beginning to a relationship."

Alistair winced. "It's not _lying _necessarily, just stretching the truth a little. I mean, we are doing an investigation of sorts in Denerim."

"Which has nothing to do with this particular woman."

"Okay, I'll admit that it is a bit dishonest." Alistair sighed in frustration and shot Morrigan an exasperated look. "I just thought that it would be better if I gave her a few options. I don't want to barge in there and make her feel like I'm expecting anything."

"By all means, do not let me talk you out of your ludicrous rational."

Rolling his eyes, Alistair silently cursed himself for not waiting for Leliana or Kallian. "Fine, what would you do if you were in my position?"

"Assuming that I had any desire to connect with such a sibling, I would simply do so. There's no call for deception when being straightforward is the better course of action. My advice would be for you to introduce yourself as her brother, and accept the outcome whatever it may be."

Alistair chewed his lip. The idea had plenty of appeal, but he wasn't sure if he had the courage to do that. "That's easier said than done, Morrigan."

Morrigan shook her head impatiently. "No, 'tis not. All you need to understand is that this woman's opinion holds no bearing over your life. You are placing too much importance on this one occurrence. In the larger scheme of things, what happens today is relatively unimportant both to the world, and to you as an individual. However she may react, you will still be the same Alistair you were before meeting her. While I do pity you for that, I suppose you might find some comfort in the notion."

"I…uh, suppose you have a point."

Feeling even more conflicted that before, Alistair mentally cursed when he saw the wooden marker that signified that they had reached 3rd Street. As he ground to a halt, Alistair stared at his destination with no small amount of confusion. To put it simply, 3rd Street looked more like a glorified alley than a proper street. Narrow and crooked, it splintered off from the main road like a crack in an otherwise solid foundation. He had always pictured it to be a more pleasant affair.

Morrigan drew up beside him and followed his gaze. "Is this it then?"

"Yeah…I guess so." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously. "Unless Eamon gave me the wrong directions, she should be down here."

"Then let us proceed. I do not plan on wasting my entire day on your errand."

If he had been alone, Alistair was sure he would have turned around and given up. Thanks to Morrigan's rather heavy-handed encouragement, he managed to force himself to start moving. Keeping his eyes trained on the left side of the cramped street, he counted the houses as they slowly moved down cobblestone path. When he finally got to seven, Alistair found himself standing in front of his sister's residence.

At first, he was fairly certain that they had come to the wrong place.

It was clear that the house had seen much better days. The wooden planks that made up the sides of the building were beginning to turn grey from age and weather exposure. In an apparent attempt to provide insulation, an unsightly paste of mud and plant matter had been thickly packed in between the individual slates. Unlike some of the houses Alistair had seen around the markets, this one did not have a clapboard roof. Instead, a thick bed of rushes spilled over the eaves of the house like an untidy mop of hair. There was only one window that he could see, but the wooden shutters where closed tightly against the chill of winter. Were it not for the lazy plume of smoke that was streaming out of the crude chimney, there would have been no way to know if anyone was inside.

Glancing back down the street, Alistair mentally recounted the houses just in case he had gotten mixed up due to nerves. There was no mistake however, this actually was the address that Eamon had given to him. Taking a closer look at the house, he noticed something that he had missed on the first perusal. Tacked onto the door with a single iron nail, a hand-painted wooden sign hung at a crooked angle. In letters that were cracked and peeling away from the wood, it read:

_3__RD __STREET LONDRESS_

_All Types of Clothing Cleaned_

_No Need to Knock, Come On In!_

Morrigan glanced at him. "She misspelled 'laundress'."

"Thanks, Morrigan."

Taking a deep breath, Alistair drew himself up and walked over to stand in front of the door. After sneaking a quick look to make sure the witch was still following him, Alistair took hold of the metal hoop that served as the door's handle and tugged it open.

Once inside, he stood blinking for a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the dim confines of the interior. With the window shut, the only sources of light were the fireplace and a large tallow candle that stood atop a table in the corner. While the house had not seemed particularly big from the outside, it felt positively cramped now that he stood inside of it. The main room that they found themselves in was scarcely twelve paces across in any direction. Based on the rickety-looking table and the large pot set over the fire, he surmised that this was the kitchen and dining area. Aside from a single doorway that presumably led into an adjacent room, it looked as though there wasn't much else to the house.

A quick glance told him that the room was empty save for a barrel of soapy water. Trying not to feel disheartened, Alistair cleared his throat and called out in hesitant tone. "Uh, excuse me? Is anyone here?"

There was a muffled curse from somewhere in the adjacent room. A bare instant later, a woman bustled out of the back with her sleeves rolled up to beyond her elbows. Brushing the sweaty strands of her hair away from her face, the woman gave him a tired smile.

"'Ello there! Lookin' to get yer wash done? I charge three bits for a bundle and ye' won't find a better price in all of Denerim!" She jabbed a thumb off towards to the left wall. "And don't let that Natalie woman tell ye' no different. She's foreign, and she'll rob ye' blind before you know it."

Alistair opened his mouth and then closed it without saying anything. Taking a moment, he studied the woman in front of him. She looked to be about ten years older than him, and it was clear that life had treated her harshly. Her brown hair was long, and it framed a face that appeared drawn and pinched by years of stress. Try as he might, Alistair could see no hint of resemblance between the two of them. With Cailan, the similarities had been so pronounced that Alistair had tried to avoid being around the king for fear that someone would draw the obvious conclusion. But this woman, with her rounded face and thin nose, looked nothing like him.

"I'm not here to drop off any wash." His voice sounded shaky and awkward even to his own ears. "My name is Alistair…and um, this might sound a little strange, but is your name Goldanna by any chance? If it is, there's something I should really tell you."

Her smile dropped away from her face and she stared at him suspiciously. "Aye, my name is Goldanna. If this is about the rent, then ye' can remind that rat bastard Fredrick that I'm paid up 'till the end of the month."

"Oh, no it's not about that." Alistair smiled and tried not to stammer as he spoke. "Erm…uh, I suppose that I should just come out and say this. I think that I am your brother. Well, technically speaking, I'm your half-brother, but there is some brotherly-type connection between us."

Morrigan made a sound that might have been a laugh as she leaned against one of the walls. Resisting the impulse to glare over in her direction, Alistair kept his rictus smiled plastered over his face as he waited for Goldanna's reaction. His sister didn't look all that impressed.

"My brother? What type of game are ye' playin' at?"

"I know it's a little hard to believe, but I'm not joking I assure you." He ducked his head sheepishly. "You see, our mother was a servant at Castle Redcliffe. She died in childbirth, and I think that we got separated when—"

"Andraste's sodding tits!" Goldanna's eyes went round and she reared back in surprise. "It's ye' isn't it? They told me that the babe was dead, but I knew they were tellin' tales!"

Relief surged through Alistair in a wonderful rush. He had been so frightened that she wouldn't believe him. "They? Who's they?"

"Them at the castle!" Goldanna frowned sharply. "I went to the gates and told those guards that ye' were the king's babe. Didn't much matter, they just told me ye' had died in the womb and gave me a coin to keep me mouth shut. But I knew it weren't true!"

"Well, you were right." Alistair smiled in a much more genuine. "The babe didn't die, I'm him. I'm…your brother."

Goldanna spat off to the side. "Ha! Lotta good that does me."

"Err…what?"

"You killed mother, you did. It left me without a house or anyone to go to. That coin them guards gave me didn't last long, and they turned me away when I went back for more. Ever since, I've had to live like a bloody pauper while you was off bein' doted on by a lord." Her voice was bitter, and she was looking at him like he was something she had found on her shoe.

Morrigan stirred and lifted her head. "That would hardly seem to be Alistair's fault. Do you mean to blame him for every hardship you have experienced?"

"And just who are ye' then?" Goldanna eyed Morrigan's revealing garments with a disdainful sneer. "Some puffed-up little doxy chasin' after his purse strings? I won't be lectured by someone who looks like she spends most of her time on her knees."

The witch pushed off the wall and stepped forward with an angry intake of breath. Stepping in between the two women before anything could happen, Alistair tried to gather his bearings. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hands in a pacifying gesture as he addressed Goldanna. "There's no call to speak to her that way. Morrigan is a friend of mine, and she's helping to fight against the Blight. Actually, that's something else you should know. I'm a Grey Warden."

"Oh-ho! So ye' are a Grey Warden _and_ a prince! Should I get down and kiss your feet?"

Alistair stared at her in bafflement. He had no idea how this had all gone so wrong. "Of course not…look, I just wanted a chance to meet you. I also thought you might like to know that I was still alive."

"Why? You don't mean nothin' to me, boy. Your father forced himself on my mother and all she got for it was a big belly and an early grave. She died for yer sake and now ye' expect me to thank the Maker for it?" She scoffed and shook her head. "I've got four children and no husband. Unless ye' are planning on helpin' to put food in their mouths, I want ye' to take yer harlot and bugger off."

"I..um…I really don't know what to say." Alistair spread his hands as he lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug. A knot had formed in his throat, and he swallowed painfully around it. "I'm sorry that I've caused you trouble. It was never my intent."

"You have no need to apologize to her." Morrigan gave him a sharp look as she gestured towards his sister. "She is simply looking for someone to blame for her hardships. You came here to find your family, not to accept the burdens of an embittered hag."

Goldanna spat on the floor once again. "Well, he found his family didn't he? If that means anythin' to him, then he'll do somethin' to make our lives better. Somethin' to make sure his family lives like it ought to."

"This is pathetic. Pay no heed to her manipulations." Morrigan folded her arms across her chest and turned away from them both.

Alistair glanced between the two women with a sick feeling in his heart. This was an absolute nightmare. Even in his wildest imaginations, Alistair had never once thought that this meeting could have turned out this poorly. His sister seemed to hate him, and right now he felt consumed by his disappointment and guilt. Reaching down to his belt, he tugged his money purse free and flicked it open. With a hand that trembled just slightly, he poured the coins into his palm and counted them quickly.

"I know that it isn't much, but this is a little over ten sovereigns." He spoke quietly and did not meet Goldanna's eyes. Returning the coins to the purse, he pulled the drawstrings to refasten the small pouch. "If I was able, I'd offer more."

Goldanna scoffed. "Ye' think I'm an idiot? Ten sovereigns is nothin' for somebody like ye'."

"Look, I'm trying to help you, Goldanna." It seemed like Alistair couldn't win no matter what he did. "This is all the money I have on me."

"Ha! If ye' want to help, ye' should talk to all them lords and powerful folk ye' know. Talk to 'em and make sure they see to yer family. My children and me deserve better than we got."

Alistair shook his head. "I don't have the power to do that, Goldanna. You're mistaken if you think that I have influence of any kind. I grew up an anonymous bastard and spent most of my life in service to the Chantry. I'm no better than you. If you want my help, these coins are all I can offer you at the moment."

Jaw clenched, he extended the money pouch in offering. She gave him an ugly little sneer that made him want to throw the coins at her feet. Then, with another scoff, she stepped forward to take the purse from his hand. Before she could take more than a few steps, a pale hand wrapped roughly around Alistair's wrist and yanked his arm down to his side.

Morrigan glared at him. "Do not be ridiculous."

"Let go, Morrigan." He made a halfhearted effort to tug free, but she kept his hand held fast. "I want to give her this."

"Why? It won't win you any respect or affection from this woman. She clearly cares nothing for you." Morrigan flicked a contemptuous glare in Goldanna's direction. "You owe her nothing in spite of what she might say. Do not dignify her pitiful attempts at exploitation by throwing away your coin. That money would be better used in preparation for the Blight."

He sighed. "Even so, she's my sister."

"How could you possibly say that after what has just occurred?" Morrigan's lip curled. "Do not be so naïve as to think that she is your family. She may share your blood, but this wretched woman is not your kin in any way that matters."

Alistair stared at Morrigan for a moment before turning his attention to his sister. In truth, he didn't feel much of anything when he looked at Goldanna. There was no great rush of familiarity or anything. She didn't even really look like him. Much as he hated to admit it, Morrigan was right about this. Goldanna was not his sister, just someone he was related to.

"C'mon, this was a mistake." He gently extracted his wrist from Morrigan's grasp and returned the money purse to his belt. "There's nothing for me here."

Feeling oddly lightheaded, he turned around and opened the door to be greeted with a blast of icy wind. Behind him, Goldanna made a derisive sound. "Fine, go on then. Just be sure that ye' never come back here. We've got no place for some useless bastard who won't even lend a hand when it's needed."

Alistair looked back at her over his shoulder with an empty feeling. It was odd, but her words didn't sting like he thought they should. "You don't have to worry about me coming back. Take care of yourself, Goldanna."

Letting Morrigan go first, Alistair stepped out onto the street once she had passed. After shutting the door behind him, Alistair started walking back up the street with no particular destination in mind. His chest was a churning mass of volatile emotions. The ache of disappointment was paramount, but he was also burning up with a slow anger that seemed to build with every step he took. He didn't deserve Goldanna's contempt, the unfairness of it all made him clench a fist tightly.

Why couldn't this one thing have worked out?

Alistair barely noticed when they returned the main street. Rather than head back for the safe-house, he hung a right and began walking towards the Chantry. He didn't look to see if Morrigan was following him. She could go back to the safe-house if that's what she wanted.

He came to a stop in front of the large fountain that stood in the middle of the Chantry's courtyard. Though it had long since frozen over, the fountain was still an impressive sight thanks to the large bronze statue of Andraste that dominated its center. Alistair stared up at the prophet for a moment, before taking a seat along the fountain's stone rim. There were only a handful of people milling around the courtyard at the moment, and he just wanted a quiet place to sort himself out for a while.

Burying his face in his hands, Alistair blew out a long breath as he replayed the entire disaster in his mind. He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to do right now. Part of him wanted to punch something really hard, and the other part wanted to sob like a little girl. Unfortunately, neither one of those things were really available to him right now. There were too many important things to worry about for him to go about throwing tantrums.

Something roughly shoved him on the shoulder.

Startled, he raised his head out of his hands to find Morrigan staring down at him. She was wearing an unusual sort of grimace, and she was studying him like he was puzzle. Lifting her hand, she shoved his shoulder twice more in rapid succession.

Alistair stared at her incredulously. "What are you doing?"

"I am…" A flash of what looked like uncertainty passed over her face. "…consoling you."

It was a few moments before Alistair's brain processed that statement. As soon as it did, he felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest. Biting his lip in an effort to keep himself from losing control, he nodded in acknowledgement. This day had gotten truly surreal, but Alistair just knew that his beer would forevermore be poisoned if he laughed at Morrigan right now. She wouldn't understand that his amusement wasn't directed at her.

_Maker above, I'm so pathetic that Morrigan's taking pity on me._

"Thanks, I uh…I appreciate it." He noted with some surprise that he actually was grateful. Even a clumsy bit of sympathy made Alistair feel better after what he had just gone through. Doing his best to smile, he looked back up at her. "That really didn't go very well; did it?"

Morrigan nodded, but thankfully did not try to pat his shoulder again. "No, I should say not."

An awkward silence fell between them. Alistair fiddled mindlessly with his fingers as he watched a few scribes bustled by in the midst of some tedious-sounding argument. He looked back at Morrigan when she cleared her throat loudly.

"'Tis my opinion that everyone in this world must watch out for themselves. Other people might prove useful, but they will inevitably disappoint you in some regard." She paused for a moment before continuing. "You do not need the approval of that woman or anyone else. Allow your identity to reflect the person you are rather than the person others expect you to be."

Alistair smiled faintly. "It's good advice, but I don't think I'll ever be able to do that. I think I've been trying to live up to someone else's expectations my entire life."

"I believe that most people go through life in such a fashion." Morrigan brushed some snow off the lip of the fountain and took a seat beside him. "'Tis one of the things I do not understand about this society. Why must you all work so hard to prove yourselves to one another?"

"I dunno," He made an encompassing gesture with his hand. "I guess 'cause that's part of living with other people. We all want to feel like we are a part of something, and sometimes that means that we have to act in a certain way. It's not necessarily healthy, but the alternative is being alone. I mean, who wants that?"

Morrigan watched him for a long moment with a delicate frown creasing her features. "I suppose that no one does."

"Right," Alistair shrugged. "It's just the price we pay, I guess. This may be one of the worst days of my entire life, but I'm sure it will build character or something stupid like that. Maybe I'll be able to look back at this and laugh at some point. Finding humor in a bad situation always seems to take the edge off of the pain in my experience."

She seemed to consider that. "And what if you cannot find something to laugh about?"

"Well, there's always grain alcohol."

The witch's mouth twitched up into a small smile. To his surprise, Alistair found himself grinning as well. This was the longest civil conversation the two of them had ever had, and Alistair found that he much preferred it to the verbal sparring matches they usually had.

On impulse, he pulled out the money purse he had planned on giving to Goldanna. Hefting it in his palm, he shot a sidelong look at Morrigan. "You want to grab some food? I've got a little over ten sovereigns to spend, and I feel like getting rid of them for some reason."

Morrigan nodded slowly. "I have not eaten today. 'Twould make sense to do so before returning to the safe-house."

"Let's do that then." Alistair stood up feeling much better than he had just a few minutes ago. "It's better than sitting around the Chantry for no reason at all."

"I quite agree."

After she had risen to her feet, Alistair motioned in the general direction of the markets. "I don't know too much about Denerim, but Kallian told me that markets usually have a good selection of food to choose from. Want to just go there and see what's available?"

"That's perfectly acceptable. So long as we do not…" She broke off in midsentence and frowned at something over his shoulder. "Well, 'twould seem as though we are about to have company."

Alistair turned around to figure out what she was talking about. After a brief search, he quickly picked out a lone figure moving towards them at a brisk pace. Among the plain-clothed brothers and sisters of the Chantry, Zevran was easy to spot in his ornate leather armor. Smiling cheerfully as he drew close, the elf raised his hand in greeting.

"Aha! There you are! I was worried that it would be difficult to find you in such a large place."

"Hello, Zevran." Alistair bobbed his head in greeting. "You were looking for us?"

The former assassin nodded in assent. "Indeed. There is a development in our mission that you should be made aware of. I would have simply waited for you at the safe-house, but I fear our favorite dwarf is going through a rough time at the moment. It seems as though he has caught a dreadful illness of some kind. Rather than listen to him retch and curse, I decided to seek you out instead."

"Is that so?" Alistair glanced at Morrigan. "Hopefully, he'll feel better soon."

"As you say, but that's not why I'm here."

"Ok, what's up?"

Zevran stroked his chin between his forefinger and thumb. "As you might recall, I went to visit the house of the dear Brother Genitivi today."

"Uh-huh."

"I was fortunate enough to meet with his assistant Weylon. He turned out to be a remarkably charming fellow. I must say that he was both very eager to help, and positively bursting with all manner of insight regarding the wayward brother."

Alistair perked up. "Did he give you any clue as to where Genitivi might have gone?"

"Ah…well, I have good news and bad news when it comes to that." Zevran rocked back and forth on his heels. "Which would you prefer to hear first?"

Tossing up his hands, Alistair smirked. "I don't know. This day hasn't been going well for me, so let's hear the good news."

"I killed Weylon."

Alistair was sure he had heard wrong. "…What?"

"I killed Weylon." Zevran shrugged in a carefree manner. "I stabbed him directly in the neck. There was blood everywhere."

"Maker's Breath," Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. This was definitely not what he needed right now. "Why on earth did you kill him?"

Zevran beamed. "Ah, that is a wonderful story. You see, I was speaking with him and I happened to notice that some parts of his story did not add up like they should have. For one thing, he kept contradicting himself when it came to providing a timeline for the brother's last few days before his sudden disappearance."

"So you killed him?"

"Hardly, I simply pressed him until he grew flustered." Zevran shrugged helplessly. "Next thing I know, he is throwing a fireball at my head. I acted out of self-defense."

Alistair blinked. "Weylon was a mage?"

"Yes, or at least, the man pretending to be Weylon was." The elf smiled in a self-satisfied manner. "After I had killed him, I decided to examine the good brother's house a bit. It was outwardly unremarkable, but I happened across a small door that had been clumsily concealed behind an armoire. Along with a good number of books and journals, the room also contained a decomposing corpse. From what I could ascertain, this was the real Weylon. It seems as though he had been replaced with an imposter around the time when Genitivi disappeared. Which leads me to the bad news…"

Morrigan made an incredulous sound. "This gets worse?"

"I'm afraid so, _bella_. You see, I now know where Genitivi has gone."

A headache was definitely building behind Alistair's eyes. Trying to ward it off with a deep breath, he dragged a hand down his face. "I really think you need to seriously reconsider your criteria for what constitutes good and bad news."

"Aha, but I'm afraid you do not grasp my meaning." Zevran folded his arms across his chest. "Inside this concealed room, I found a number of unsettling notes that suggest that Genitivi became involved with the wrong sort of people. Though nothing is definitive, almost all of the notes make reference to a town called Haven. It appears as though Genitivi was under the impression that the Scared Ashes were located in or around this town. There were also a number of things that suggested that the town was not friendly to outsiders. Based on what I read, I believe that the men of this town may have had something to do with his disappearance."

"Haven is it? That's in the Frostback Mountains, I think." Alistair frowned as he thought this over. "Did you happen to bring any of these notes along with you?"

"Of course, I brought them all back to the safe-house. You may draw your own conclusions from them if you so wish."

"We can all go over them as a group." Alistair felt a rush of excitement at the assassin's words. This was the first tangible evidence that there was something more to the Ashes than myth and legend. He would have preferred to have had the chance to speak with this imposter himself, but he would take what he could get. "At the very least, this will give us something to go on. Good work, Zevran."

The assassin bowed. "No need to offer thanks. I was simply doing my part."

"C'mon we can pick up some food to take back to the safe-house." Alistair directed this at Morrigan. "We should try to go over as many of these documents as possible. I don't want to linger in Denerim, and if Zevran has found what we needed, we could leave by tomorrow."

Morrigan frowned just slightly. "As you wish."

Clapping an arm around Zevran's shoulders, Alistair set a course for the markets with a much lighter heart. This was the best news he had heard in months, and he was eager to take a look at these notes himself. The very idea that they might have a chance at curing Arl Eamon filled him with hope.

There was a lot to do, and all of it would keep him from dwelling on what had happened this afternoon.

...

xxXxx

* * *

I turned twenty-two today, so this will forever be my birthday chapter. This arbitrarily elevates above all the other chapters.

Anyway, this chapter took forever to write just because I was trying to keep Morrigan relatively in character. That was a little difficult given her involvement in Alistair's side quest, but it was fun to do. I think building any kind of relationship between the two necessitates OOC writing, but I'd love to hear some feedback on how it worked for you guys.

Thanks so very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I got some amazing feedback and I really appreciate it. Also, big thanks to my new beta-reader Gorg for providing some helpful advice on elements of this chapter.

Alright, I think I might start writing the next chapter immediately cause I'm rather excited about it. There are about five chapters that I've been wanting to write from the onset of this fic, and next chapter is one of them.


	29. Thank You Mario

Chapter 29: Thank You Mario But Our Princess Is In Another Castle

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

…

"I've heard many stories of this place. They say King Marric frequented it while he was still in power."

Leliana smiled nervously and glanced around the table in the hopes that someone would pick up the conversation. Even though all of her earlier attempts had been rebuffed, she still felt like she had to do something to chase away the strained silence that had fallen over the group. They were meant to be relaxing, but this had proven to be one of the most uncomfortable parties she had ever experienced.

"Don't know why he would. This place is a soddin' pisshole." Oghren grumbled irritably as he lifted his mug. In lieu of alcohol, the dwarf was drinking a foul smelling herbal remedy that was supposed to alleviate his sudden illness. He had purchased the pouch of medicine from a seedy looking merchant down by the docks, and Leliana wasn't sure how much faith she would place in its efficacy.

She forced a laugh. "The Gnawed Noble is practically considered a national landmark in Fereldan."

"It's a pisshole."

Leliana winced and looked to the others for support. Not everyone had decided to come out tonight; Wynne, Morrigan, and Sten had all elected to stay at the safe-house rather than join them. Alistair had been the one to suggest they have a couple of drinks, and he had been lost in thought ever since they had arrived. The few times she had managed to get his attention, he had only given her a distracted smile and a few noncommittal answers. She wasn't sure what was going on with him, but he was not acting like the outgoing and cheerful man she knew him to be.

Oghren had been outright unpleasant the entire evening. Wynne had warned him that his mysterious illness would only be exacerbated by drinking, and he had not taken the news well. As a result, he had decided to vent his frustration on the rest of them. Leliana had made the mistake of asking him how he was feeling earlier, and she had been rewarded with a nauseatingly graphic description of his "discharge". After that, she had left him to his sullen grumbling and half-muttered insults.

Zevran was the only one of them who seemed to be in a good mood. Unfortunately, the assassin had not offered much by way of conversation. After having a few glasses of red wine, he had left their table to speak with the comely woman behind the tavern's bar. Based on the way the barmaid was giggling and tossing her hair, it appeared as though Zevran wouldn't be sleeping alone tonight.

After he had left their table, Leliana had done her absolute best to coax the others into a conversation. Twenty minutes later, all she had to show for her efforts was a great deal of discomfort and awkwardness. She would have left a long time ago were it not for Kallian. Alistair had insisted that the elven Warden join them, and Leliana was beginning to think that he had made a terrible mistake in doing so. She had agreed that Kallian shouldn't be alone right now, but it had quickly become clear that taking her to a tavern had been an error in judgment.

There was absolutely no denying that Kallian was in a very bad state of mind. The elf had probably said three words since they had arrived, and one of those had been more of a snarl than anything approaching language. In lieu of conversation, Kallian had started drinking at an alarming rate. While that in of itself was a cause for concern, Leliana was more worried about what the drinking would lead to.

Kallian had lapsed into an intense and angry silence that the alcohol was doing nothing to alleviate. Rather, it seemed as though each successive drink just made her glare harder at the table's scratched surface. Leliana had been watching her with an increasing sense of foreboding as the night had worn on. It was like staring at a gathering storm, and the last time Kallian had looked up, Leliana had seen something black and ugly lurking behind the elf's bloodshot eyes.

There was no question about the cause behind Kallian's dark mood. She had reacted poorly when Slim had told her about the Alienage, and it had only gotten worse when Alistair had forbidden her to do anything about it. As with so many things, Kallian had responded by angrily withdrawing into herself.

The situation really was very bleak. Some two weeks ago, the Alienage had been locked down in full quarantine to prevent the spread of a plague that had cropped up amongst the elves. Bad as this was, it was made even worse by the city's disregard for the welfare of the trapped elves. Instead of attempting to provide aid of some kind, the city officials had decided to simply keep the gates shut and let the disease run its course. Slim had mentioned that some of the local thieves had tried to smuggle in food, but the guards had caught them long before they could scale the walls.

Naturally, Kallian's first impulse had been to break in to check on her family, but Alistair had been adamant in his refusal. Now that they had finally learned the location of Brother Genitivi, he wanted to leave the city as soon as possible to avoid attracting Loghain's attention. To that end, he had forbidden Kallian to risk capture for the sake of her family.

Kallian had been upset, but the elf had surprisingly shown no sign of disobedience. Even so, Alistair had insisted that she join them on this outing. Though he claimed it was to take her mind off things, Leliana suspected that it was a more of an attempt to keep an eye on her.

Sighing, Leliana lifted her mug and took a sip of water. Setting it down, she clasped her hands and turned to face Alistair. "I heard Morrigan mention that the two of you spent the morning together. What is the story behind that?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes…yes we did." Alistair sat up straighter and seemed to shake himself into attentiveness. Giving her a faintly apologetic smile, he leaned forward as he elaborated. "I asked her to help me with something, and she was good enough to do so."

Relieved that someone was finally saying something, Leliana settled back into her chair. "That's a little surprising considering the way the two of you act around one another. What was it that you needed help with?"

Alistair's smile slipped for just a bare instant. "Oh nothing, just a stupid little errand I had to run. It was more of a way to pass the time after I got back from talking to the Templars. Did I mention how badly that went by the way? Thank the Maker that Zevran was on top of things because I could not have had less success on my end."

"Yes, he made our efforts unnecessary as well." Leliana glanced at Kallian, but the elf wasn't paying attention. "I fear that we will probably have no need for the information we requested from Ser Couldry. It is a shame as he seemed so eager to help."

"I'd wait a few days to see what he has to say, but I don't see what he could provide that Zevran hasn't already found out. Right now, we've got correspondence between the kidnappers and a map to Haven. Zevran pretty much stumbled on a gold mine."

"Hrrgh…everyone just loves the elf, huh?" Oghren made a disgusted sound and gulped down a mouthful of his herbal remedy. "It's always 'Zevran this' and 'Zevran that'. Tell me somthin', how come no ever gets all moist in the loins for ol' Oghren? What about all things I've done?"

Alistair quirked a brow. "What exactly have you done?"

"Oh, real nice." Oghren sent a malevolent glare in his direction. "Tell ya' what Pike-twirler: next time yer in the shit and ya' want 160 pounds of man at yer back, don't expect to see my face over yer shoulder. Yer just gonna have to suck it up and handle things yerself."

Leliana propped an elbow on the table and rested her face in the palm of her hand. "I do hope that you are talking about battle."

"Of course I am! What the hell else could I be talkin' about?"

She traded an amused look with Alistair. "Oh nothing, you will have to forgive me for my ignorance. As a woman, I fear that I know very little about the theatre of war."

"Ah, no harm done, Red." Oghren nodded, apparently mollified. "It's the type of thing ya' gotta experience to really understand. War ain't no pretty thing ya' read about in books. It's about standin' toe-to-toe with another man and poundin' away at one another until somebody's spent."

Alistair choked off a laugh, and Leliana fought to keep herself from smiling. Glancing between the two of them suspiciously, Oghren jabbed a finger at the tabletop with an irritable snort. "What the hell's the matter with the both of ya'?"

"Nothing, just the beer." Alistair gestured to his cup in emphasis. "Please, go on."

Shaking her head as the dwarf plunged into another sermon, Leliana turned away from the two of them to see if Kallian was enjoying the show. To her disappointment, it looked as though the elf hadn't even noticed that the rest of them had been talking. Biting her lip, Leliana nudged Kallian's shoulder to get her attention.

"Are you ready to leave? I think I've had about enough of this place."

Kallian slowly looked up at her. Her gaze was unfocused, but her voice was steady. "Not yet."

With startling abruptness, the elf pushed her chair away from the table with a loud scrape of wood. Picking up her empty mug, Kallian steadied herself against the back of the chair as she pushed herself to her feet. Before she could walk away, Leliana reached out and gently caught hold of Kallian's wrist. She tried to keep her tone light as she smiled at the smaller woman. "Where are you going?"

"My cup's empty."

Leliana cocked her head. The bar was on the other side of the impressively-large tavern, and Kallian hadn't seemed to be in such a hurry before this. "I'll signal one of the barmaids. They can take care of it for you."

"Takes too long." Kallian twisted out Leliana's grip with a neat little motion. Stumbling just slightly, she began moving off in the direction of the bar without a backwards glance. Frowning, Leliana followed her progress uneasily.

There had been an odd quality to Kallian's voice, and some sixth sense was telling Leliana that trouble was brewing. Watching closely, Leliana leaned forward when Kallian suddenly diverted her course. Instead of making a beeline towards the bar, the elf had taken a roundabout route that had forced her to weave around a number of the other tables. Right before she actually reached the bar, she seemed to accidentally brush up against a table of five human men. It was enough to startle them, but Kallian continued on her way as if nothing had happened.

Leliana narrowed her eyes. That had been a calculated move.

If Kallian's intention had been to attract attention, than she had succeeded. The men at the table she had bumped into had taken notice of her. While Kallian was traded a few words with Zevran's barmaid, Leliana noticed the men glancing in the elf's direction while speaking amongst themselves.

When Kallian stepped away from the bar, she was holding a slender ceramic bottle in one hand. Only Nevarran wine was served in ceramic bottles, and Kallian had been drinking the house ale the entire night. Belatedly realizing what was about to happen, Leliana mentally cursed and pushed her chair back to stand up. Without looking to see if Oghren or Alistair had noticed as well, she began making her way through the crowded interior of the tavern.

Kallian was on her way back already, and sure enough, the elf had chosen the same roundabout route she had taken on the way there. As she passed by the table she had knocked against, one of the men reached out and stopped her by catching hold of her inner elbow. Visibly drunk, the man gave her a cheerful smile and said something that was lost to Leliana over the clamor of the tavern.

As Leliana drew closer, she saw Kallian bare her teeth into a harsh smile. The elf responded with something that made all the other men at the table laugh uproariously. However, the man holding onto her arm flushed angrily and half-rose from his seat. Hidden from the man's view, Kallian shifted her grip on the bottle so that she was clutching it by the neck.

Leliana practically sprinted the last few steps in order to reach the two of them. Wrapping one hand firmly around Kallian's wrist, she jerked the bottle back down to the elf's side to keep it out of view. Fixing a pleasant smile on her face, she stepped between the elf and the human before either could react to her presence.

"Kallian! There you are!" Leliana moved in such a way as to force the man to let go of her friend. "I have been looking all over for you. The rest of us are all about to leave, and I didn't want you to be left behind. Come on, let's go outside and get some fresh air."

Honey-colored eyes stared back at her in challenge. Apparently, Kallian had not expected to be interrupted, and it didn't look at though she was all that happy about it. Locking eyes with the elf, Leliana gave her a stern look without ever losing her smile. After a few seconds of this staring match, Kallian finally gave a stiff nod of assent.

"Hey, hold on!" The man stepped around Leliana with a drunkard's typical lack of grace. "We ain't done here just cause—"

Leliana cut him off with a charming grin. "Oh yes, I saw the way she bumped into your table earlier. You must forgive her; she's had quite a bit to drink tonight and I fear that she's not acting like herself. Allow me to apologize on her account."

The man seemed a little taken aback by her polite apology. Drawing himself back up, he nodded charitably. "Just so long as it doesn't happen again!"

"It won't, you have my word."

With one last smile in his direction, Leliana wrapped an arm around Kallian's shoulders and marched her off in the direction of the tavern's door. Glancing back at their friends' table, Leliana saw that Alistair had risen up in response to the commotion. Without breaking stride, she shot him a significant look to let him know that everything was under control. Nodding slowly, he sank back into his chair even though he still followed them with his eyes.

Leliana didn't say another word until they were out of the Gnawed Noble and onto the street. In spite of the fact that it was shockingly cold outside, her face felt uncomfortably hot. Anger had replaced her worry, and she wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into Kallian. Still steering the elf along, she walked them some twenty feet away from the tavern's entrance before rounding on Kallian. The elf was still holding her wine bottle, and Leliana had to resist the impulse to knock it out of her hands.

"What on earth were you thinking?"

Kallian shrugged. "He grabbed me."

"I'm not a fool, Kallian. That entire charade was planned." Leliana glared at her in disapproval. "What did you hope to accomplish?"

"Dunno," Kallian stepped passed Leliana and began walking down the street. "Doesn't matter though, nothing happened."

Leliana started after her. "Yes, because I stopped you."

"Just go away, Leliana."

Those words made Leliana so angry she thought she was going to scream. Grabbing hold of Kallian's shoulder, Leliana yanked her around so that they were face-to-face. She then raised her hands up to tightly clasp Kallian's upper arms and spoke in harsh whisper. "No, I'm tired of this game! You do not get to run and hide every single time we need to have a conversation!"

She had expected the elf to try to pull away, but Kallian remained limp and unresisting in her grasp. When she looked up to meet Leliana's gaze, her voice sounded weary and slurred from drinking. "What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to me," Leliana loosened her grip on Kallian's arms. "Try to help me understand why you were about to smash a bottle over some drunk's head. I know that today has been difficult, but I can't be there for you if you're constantly trying to get away."

Kallian stared back at her with glassy eyes. It looked as though all fight had drained out of her back in the bar. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, the elf nodded a few times. "Let's take a walk or something. I don't want to go back to the safe-house right now."

"Where do you want to go?"

Kallian shrugged and eased Leliana's hands off of her arms. "Dunno…just somewhere else."

"Alright," Leliana brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. "I'll go wherever you would like. Provided of course, that this 'somewhere else' isn't another tavern."

A bleak little smile crossed over Kallian's face as she nodded in agreement. Wordlessly, the elf led the way down the street with a shuffling gait. Leliana tried to gauge their surroundings as they passed by the dark storefronts that lined the road. She had gotten a decent picture of the city's layout over the last few days, but it was almost impossible to orient herself at night. With the large buildings looming above them, walking down the street felt something like moving through a labyrinth.

Her biggest fear was that Kallian would make for the Alienage, but she soon realized that they were traveling east rather than south. Neither of them spoke as they walked, and the deserted streets were almost completely silent save for the occasional barking of a dog. A light snowfall had started while they were in the Gnawed Noble, and delicate flakes were swirling about like tiny wisps of cotton.

Leliana's anger began to fade as they walked. She was still frustrated and concerned, but it was too emotionally draining to hold onto any harsher emotions. All she wanted at this point was to find some way of getting through to the woman at her side. Kallian had to learn that relationships were a two-way street.

Wherever they were going, she hoped it was some place warm. She hadn't taken her cloak from the Gnawed Noble, and the night air bit through her leathers with the keenness of a blade. Even though she had been living in this country for just over two years, she had yet to become used to the terrible winters.

Leliana was still mentally going over what she was planning on saying when a frigid blast of wind carried the tangy scent of salt water to her nose. Roused from her thoughts, she looked up to see the wide expanse of the Amaranthine Ocean stretching out before them. The small path they had been walking on had dumped them out on the long boardwalk that stretched along the coast. As these docks were the heart of all foreign trade in the country, Denerim's port was filled with innumerable merchant ships. Against the deep purple backdrop of the night's sky, their masts reached upwards like hundreds of narrow black spires.

It was the first time since entering Denerim that Leliana could honestly say that something was beautiful. The ocean was always a majestic sight, and the inky water contrasted wonderfully with the yellowish moon that hung fat in the sky. As a refreshing change of pace, the breeze that blew in over the water smelled fresh and alive in the way that only a coastal region could manage. Though the waves barely broke on the gentle slope of the shoreline, the sound of the lapping water made for a charming melody. Taking a few steps forward to the edge of the boardwalk, Leliana smiled as she delighted in the peaceful setting.

Unfortunately, the cumulative effect was somewhat diminished when Kallian began vomiting over the side of the dock.

With a small sigh, Leliana walked over and took hold of the back of the elf's collar to keep Kallian from overbalancing and toppling into the assuredly freezing water. Watching without the slightest shred of sympathy, she stood there patiently while Kallian brought up an impressive amount of beer. Once Kallian had finally stopped retching, Leliana helped her to steady herself. In spite of the fact that she was swaying on her feet, Kallian didn't sound drunk when she spoke.

"Fucking hell," Kallian lifted the ceramic bottle and began working at the wax seal that kept the cork fastened. "I hate doing that."

Leliana gave her a level look and gestured at the bottle. "Are you sure that is a wise decision?"

"Relax, I'm not drinking it." Kallian opened the bottle with a firm yank. Tossing the cork aside, she took a mouthful of the wine and swished it around in her mouth before spitting it out. After repeating this two more times, she offered the bottle to Leliana. "You want any?"

"No, thank you."

"It's just as well, Nevarran wine is shit anyways." Kallian tossed the bottle over the side of the boardwalk and began walking down the nearest pier. Leliana followed after her with a small frown. Kallian's voice sounded both angry and listless all at once. It was painful even to hear it.

They stopped at the end of the pier, and Kallian sank down to slump against one of the large mooring piles with her legs dangling out over the edge of the dock. Unhappily noting that the wooden planks were damp from the ocean's spray, Leliana sat down beside her and shuddered when the cold soaked through her pants. Kallian's eyes were closed, and it looked for all the world like she had fallen asleep against the wooden post.

Leliana cleared her throat. "Why here?"

"It's nice," Kallian murmured without opening her eyes. "Used to come here when I wanted to get some peace and quiet. Merchants don't use these docks 'cause they're so small, and the guard doesn't bother patrolling for a couple of fishing boats."

"I suppose that it is quite pleasant."

"Best part of Denerim, for all that's worth."

They sat quietly for a time. In lieu of anything else to do, Leliana gazed down at the black water beneath them. She was content to let Kallian pick up the conversation whenever she wished, but if the elf passed out on her, Leliana was going to push her into the Amaranthine.

Kallian broke the silence after a minute. "About what happened back there, I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

"I suspect you weren't doing much thinking." Leliana gave Kallian a prim look. "Honestly, what could have possibly compelled you to pick a fight with five men who all outweighed you by at least sixty pounds? They would have torn you to pieces."

"I lost control for a moment. I remember being drunk and angry, and then suddenly I'm standing in front of that table with the bottle in my hand. I don't know, Leliana…maybe, I really am going crazy."

Leliana shook her head. "You're not crazy."

"No," Kallian breathed out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Just stupid."

This conversation wasn't quite what Leliana had been expecting. Kallian sounded almost defeated when she spoke, and Leliana felt the last vestige of her anger slip away at the elf's words. At this point, she'd feel almost like a bully if she kept berating Kallian. It was time to leave the ugly incident at the tavern behind and focus on actually doing something to get through to her friend. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she reached out and placed a comforting hand on Kallian's back.

"Perhaps, but I think you can be forgiven for that on account of what happened today." She tried to put as much warmth in her voice as she possibly could. "There aren't many people in this world who could remain levelheaded after hearing that all their friends and family were in terrible danger. That must be terrifying, and I'm sure you wish there was something you could do. I won't pretend to know how all of that must feel, but it is important to me that you—"

"I was raped."

Leliana stopped in midsentence as the softly spoken words registered in her ears. Turning her head to face Kallian, she opened her mouth and then closed it again. After a beat, she finally got over her surprise long enough to force out a reply. "I beg your pardon?"

"You wanted to know what I wasn't telling you, and that's it. I was raped."

Taking a breath, Leliana let it out slowly. "When?"

"The day I was supposed to get married. A noble named Vaughan came into the Alienage to start some trouble with a few of the girls. He got pretty aggressive, and my cousin ending up knocking him out with bottle." Kallian's eyes were open, but she hadn't moved from her slumped over position against the pillar. "The bastard deserved it, but apparently that doesn't matter when you're the son of the Arl. He came back once he had woken up, and he brought a small army with him. Interrupted the wedding ceremony and just started grabbing any girl that caught his eye. That included me."

Leliana was floundering. She had no idea what she was supposed to say or do in response to this. Feeling uncertain, she lifted her hand off of Kallian's back and placed it on the elf's shoulder in the hopes of lending some support. Her chest felt uncomfortably tight, and she could only sit there lamely while Kallian kept speaking.

"I spat in his face when he tried to take me, but all that did was piss him off. He had his guards smack me around a little, and then the other girls and I got dragged off to his estate. When we got there, they separated me from the others. Took me up to this bedroom where Vaughan was waiting with three of his friends. They told me they were having a party."

Her voice cracked and she trailed off. Gently squeezing the elf's shoulder, Leliana said the only thing that came to mind. "Oh Kallian, I am so sorry."

"I could have fought them, you know." Kallian didn't give any sign that she had heard. "They were drunk; I might have stood a chance. It's what my mother trained me for. When it came down to it though, I was too scared to fight back. So, I just…uh,…I just let them do that to me."

Leliana bit her lip. "You must not allow yourself to think in that way. You never 'let' those men do anything to you."

"I didn't fight them either." Kallian swallowed thickly and drew in a sharp breath. "I just cried and kept begging them to stop. One of them thought that was really funny. He was laughing like it was some kind of joke. I still don't see what the hell is so funny about that."

The elf broke off with a small sniff and raised one hand to roughly paw at her eyes. As Kallian fought to compose herself, Leliana sat there feeling helpless. It was absolutely terrible to see Kallian in this much pain, but Leliana wasn't sure what she should be doing. When she had been on the other side of this conversation back in Lothering, it had seemed as though the Mother Superior had always known exactly what to say.

Now though, Leliana would have given anything to have that gift. Every single word of comfort that she could think of sounded trite and inadequate in her mind. She didn't want to bombard Kallian with a bunch of weak condolences, but she knew that she had to say something. At a loss, she just waited until Kallian had recovered, and spoke up in quiet tone.

"How did you get away?"

"I don't know. The last thing I can remember is one of them hitting me for some reason. After that, there's just a big black hole." Kallian's voice sounded dull as she said this. "Next thing I know, I'm covered in blood and standing in the middle of the Alienage. My cousins told me that I had killed all four of them. By all rights, I should have ended up executed by the guard, but Duncan stepped in and recruited me. That's how I became a Grey Warden."

"Did that help at all?" Leliana tried to make out the expression on her friend's face in the darkness. "To know that they are dead?"

"No. I thought it would at first, but it doesn't."

Kallian shook her head gently and fell silent once more. Feeling a pang of sorrow, Leliana reached out and gently brushed a few strands a hair away from Kallian's face. The elf didn't shy away from her touch, and Leliana felt slightly braver as she spoke. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that you had to experience such a thing. All I can really say is that it does get easier with time."

The elf looked at her. "If that's true, than how come I still can't sleep without having nightmares? Why do I start shaking whenever Alistair gets too close, or have panic attacks for no reason at all? It's been months, Leliana. Why haven't I gotten over this?"

That wasn't a question Leliana had an answer to, but she tried regardless. "It's not something you just get over."

"You did."

Leliana gave her a sad smile. "Kallian, the first few months I was in the Chantry, I doubt I said more than a word or two. It's true that I eventually put the memory of my rape behind me, but that took nearly a year at a place that afforded me safety and a chance to rest. You have spent the last several months running and fighting for your life. I doubt you've had enough time to catch your breath much less to recover from something like this."

Kallian turned back to stare out over the water. After a moment, she gave the barest of nods. "But, it will go away?"

"I won't lie and tell you that it does so entirely." Leliana tried to sound encouraging in spite of her words. "You might forget about it for months or even years, but there's always a chance that something will stir up old memories and it will hurt all over again. The important thing is to keep in mind that a single terrible experience does not define a life. That remembered pain won't be as bad as it once was, and you'll have new joys to ease the sting of the recollection. Whatever you may think right now, life does go on."

Kallian shook her head. "You make it sound easy."

"It won't be." Leliana smiled softly and squeezed her hand. "But you will get through it all the same. You're much stronger than you realize, and I'll be around to remind you of that whenever you forget. Believe me, you're going to be fine, Kallian."

She had hoped to say something meaningful, but her words had an effect that she had not intended. Drawing in a ragged breath, Kallian brought up a hand to cover her mouth. In spite of her efforts, a muffled sob broke through, and soon Kallian's shoulders were shaking violently as she cried. Hesitantly, Leliana leaned over to gently draw the elf into an embrace. Without any further prompting, Kallian wrapped her arms around Leliana's chest, and buried her face in the crook of Leliana's neck.

Leliana stroked Kallian's hair with one hand while quietly murmuring meaningless bits of comfort. It only seemed to make her cry harder, but Leliana had a feeling that was somehow a good sign. Shifting to a more comfortable position, she pulled Kallian into her lap in order to hold her closer. Kallian barely seemed to notice the motion, and she said something in between gasping breaths that Leliana couldn't quite catch. When Kallian's sobs had finally died down to nothing more than a few feeble sniffles, Leliana planted a small kiss on the top of her head before leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

"Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah, a little." Kallian gave one last sniff and wiped at her eyes. "I…uh,…thank you."

Leliana smiled a faint smile and toyed with a lock of Kallian's dark hair. "No, let me thank you for trusting me with something such as this. I know how difficult it can be."

"I meant to tell you sooner, but I was never able to." Kallian tucked her head under Leliana's chin. "Part of me was afraid of how you would react."

That made Leliana frown just slightly. She had never thought of herself as particularly frightening. "Why?"

"Dunno, I guess I just keep waiting for you to figure out you don't belong with me. That's part why I never really wanted to talk about my life in Denerim."

"Hush now, that's a foolish thing to say." Leliana rubbed the back of Kallian's neck in comforting manner to take any sting out of her words. "If I didn't belong with you, then we would not be together. Besides, you know that I love hearing those stories."

Kallian gave a small shrug. "It just seems like I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"I will allow that you have an impressive capacity for being difficult," Leliana let a teasing note creep into her voice. "But you also make me happy. You're funny, and clever, and far kinder than you will ever admit. I like that you give your full attention to the stories I tell, and I absolutely adore that sound you make when I kiss along on your neck. On top of that, I could go on all night about how good you look in those leather pants of yours."

Though Leliana couldn't see Kallian's face, she could hear the smile in the elf's voice. "And that's enough?"

"It's more than you might think." Leliana stroked one hand along Kallian's arm. "Most of all, I believe that you would never intentionally hurt me. In my experience, that's a far rarer quality that most people would expect. I trust you Kallian, and that means a great deal."

Kallian let off a choked sort of laugh before hugging Leliana tighter. They sat like that for a little while with the only sounds being the soft rumble of the Amaranthine and the whisper of their mingled breathing. After a few moments, Kallian spoke in a barely-audible whisper. "I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

The elf's raspy voice was soft, but the frank honesty in her tone made Leliana's chest swell with warmth in. Smiling, she bent down and kissed the top of Kallian's head once more. "Good, I'd hate to think I was playing second fiddle to anyone."

Kallian mumbled an agreement and then spoke up in a firmer tone. "Really though, I need to thank you. This is the first time in a long time that I have felt like I'm not completely fucked up."

"You are so welcome." Leliana wanted to make a joke to downplay the seriousness of the elf's statement, but she knew it would be inappropriate. Instead, she wisely kept her mouth shut and focused on simply being there for her friend. After a moment, a small thought occurred to her. "Have you ever told anyone else?"

"Not really, but Alistair knows." Kallian made a disgusted sound. "He saw the memory of it when we were all in the Fade. Then he wanted to talk about it. I think you might remember the fight we had as a result."

Leliana winced. "Ah…you know he meant well."

"Yeah, he always does." She blew out a breath. "It still pissed me off. I wasn't ready for someone to know."

"But tonight you were? After drinking your weight in beer and nearly starting a bar fight?"

"I dunno…like I said, I've been trying to tell you for a long time." Kallian squirmed about in discomfort. "It just felt like I couldn't keep it inside anymore. Today was really hard, and I needed to do something to change the way things were. Then, this all just kind of tumbled out. I'm sorry I sprung it on you out of nowhere. I had planned on this going better."

"I think it went well enough." Leliana idly brushed some snowflakes off of her trousers. "I'm glad that you did decide to tell me. I'm sure hearing about your family was difficult, and I know that talking about your hardships will do you a world of good. We are not solitary creatures, we need to share our burdens every once in a while."

Kallian nodded. "Yeah, I just wish I had come to terms with that before I started drinking. That wasn't a good choice, but I wasn't thinking straight after talking to Slim and Alistair."

"I understand." Leliana pulled back to look down at her. "Does that mean that you are no longer angry with Alistair? I half-expected another fight when he first told you that you couldn't go."

"No, I'm not angry with him anymore. I wasn't even mad at him when we were back in the tavern. It's not easy to admit it, but I know that he's right. There are just too many risks."

Leliana pondered this for a moment. "I've seen the way that you climb. Surely it wouldn't be too difficult to get into the Alienage if we worked together."

"You'd think so, but you've never seen the Alienage in lockdown. Those walls are nearly fifty feet high, and the guard puts in double patrols to make sure no one gets in or out." She gave a resigned shrug. "Even if we could get in, there would always be the chance we'd end up catching the plague. The last thing we need is to be spreading that around Denerim when the Blight is on the doorstep. It sucks, but I'm not going to be that selfish and risk everything we've done. I'll just have to hope that my father and my cousins are alright."

"The Maker will watch over them."

"He never has before…but let's hope so."

They lapsed into silence after that. Kallian was likely deep in her own thoughts, and Leliana wanted to give her some time to herself. Instead of talking, she stared out over Denerim's harbor and admired the scene before her. It really was a pretty part of the city, and the faint mist that was rolling in leant it a kind of mystical quality. Noting that the moon had risen high above them, she wondered what time it was. Alistair would surely be wondering where the two of them had gone off to.

The creeping mist also brought a chill breeze that sent a shiver down her spine. Gently tapping Kallian's arm to get her attention, Leliana glanced down at her. "Are you ready to go back? We should probably get some sleep for tomorrow."

"Uh…Do you think we could stay for a few more minutes? I think I need a little bit more time to get my head on straight."

"Take all the time you need."

Leliana settled back and tried to ignore the way her legs were falling asleep. Lovely as it was out on these docks, it was not terribly comfortable. All the same, she wouldn't voice any complaint whether Kallian wanted to stay out here for five minutes or five hours. She remembered what it was like to be in the elf's position, and she would do everything she could to help Kallian along.

After a little while, Kallian cleared her throat. "Hey Leliana?"

"Yes?"

"I think I have to vomit again."

"Ah."

xxXxx

* * *

I can't tell you how many times I mentally revised this conversation over the course of the fic. I really wanted to avoid the wailing and gnashing of teeth that usually accompanies these types of scenes, so I went with something that I hope came off as a little more subdued.

Anyway, I would absolutely love reviews on this chapter because I found it incredibly difficult to write. Let me know if it worked for you or not, because I think it's an important aspect of the relationship between Kallian and Leliana and I would not be adverse to reworking it if the feedback is negative. So, I'd love to hear any criticism or comments that you have!

Big thanks to my beta reader Gorg who pointed out some inconsistencies in the chapter, and also thank you to everyone for reading!


	30. The Hill

**A/N:** Thanks to my beta Gorg for going over this chapter and pointing out the incongruities.

Chapter 30: The Hill

-The Imperial Highroad-

* * *

xxXxx

…

"So you see, I was actually quite fortunate that those orphans wished to loot my corpse. Had they not pulled me from the river, I would have most likely drowned. As it was, I merely lost my coin purse and a rather fine pair of boots. It's all about perspective."

Kallian nodded in agreement and looked up at the sun that hung overhead. Based on its position, she guessed that it was one or two hours past midday. "That is lucky."

"Indeed. I've always had a generous amount of luck. It tends to make up for my shortcomings." Zevran showed his perfect teeth in a brilliant smile as he gestured at their surroundings. "Take my current situation as an example. I botch a job in the most spectacular fashion possible, only to benefit from the mercy of a beautiful young lady."

Rolling her eyes at the flattery, Kallian uncorked her water skin and lifted it up to drink. They had been travelling nonstop since before daybreak, and she was starting to feel both tired and hungry. Since leaving Denerim nearly three days ago, their pace had been absolutely brutal. Even though the Blight was not an immediate concern, Alistair had reminded everyone that Arl Eamon's time was rapidly dwindling. In accordance with this new deadline, the party was moving as quickly as they were able.

Currently, the road they were travelling along was a narrow little path that wound through the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. Of all of the places they had been, Kallian thought that these mountains were the most beautiful. Looming on the horizon like backdrop of an oil-painting, the mountains appealed to her on a basic level. It was more than just their austere beauty; it was also the ageless and untouchable shadow they seem to cast on the surrounding landscape. She found it peaceful in a way that she could not fully explain.

As beautiful as they were, the mountains had also created problems for them. For one thing, the uneven terrain had proven to be draining as they were forced to weave around the large hills that dotted the Northern Reaches. Even worse, the road had a tendency to curve around a bend to leave them blind to whatever threat may lurk beyond. In the interest of providing early warning against anything nasty, Kallian and Zevran were scouting some forty yards ahead of the others. She had been surprised when Zevran had offered to join her, but she privately welcomed the assassin's company. Unless Leliana was with her, scouting was boring and lonely work.

Without breaking stride, she replaced the skin's cork and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "So, you're happy with all this?"

"Oh yes, this is a much better life in so many ways. For one thing, I hardly need to worry about a comrade stabbing me in the back as I so often did while working for the Crows. While I'll admit that I do miss the constant threat of death, this is a pleasant change of pace nonetheless."

"That's good to hear. You're a useful addition to the group."

Zevran reared back in mock surprise. "My, my, I fear I may blush in the face of such effusive praise. You do me a tremendous kindness with your words."

"It's just the truth. You came through big time in Denerim, and I've learned a lot from working with you." Kallian gave him a flat look to discourage whatever comment was bubbling up inside of him. "Speaking of which, I want you to teach me that takedown you used last night. It surprised the hell out of me. "

"Ah yes, an old friend of mine used to favor that particular maneuver. Very useful when your back is to the wall." He shrugged modestly. "Though I do love compliments, I must say that I've hardly taught you much. Most of what I have done is help you polish what skills you already possess. Which actually begs a question I've been meaning to ask: where does a lovely guttersnipe such as yourself learn advanced combat training?"

Kallian glanced at him. "My mother."

"She must have been a terribly violent woman."

"My dad thought so. He always disapproved of what she taught me." Kallian tried to ignore that stab of pain that went through her at the thought of her father. "She still did, but I always thought that I was just getting the basics down."

"Ah, but fighting is all about the basics, _bella_. You have a good foundation, and that is not something to dismiss lightly." Zevran flashed her a charming smile. "On top of that, you are adaptable, aggressive, and very flexible. All three of which are attributes that I'm still looking to test in a more intimate setting."

Heaving a sigh, Kallian felt amusement and exasperation war inside her. "What about me and Leliana don't you get?"

"Oh, I understand it perfectly. I'm just ever the optimist." Zevran responded cheerfully. "What harm is there in extending an invitation? The worst thing that can happen is that you turn me down. It seems to me that the possible reward far outweighs the negligible risk. Besides, I am a lonely man, and such treasures are irresistible to me."

Kallian scoffed. "Lonely? What about that barmaid back in Denerim? Or that Dalish girl you were chasing after?"

"Ah, sweet Senna." Zevran voice took on a wistful quality. "Had I the time, I would have spent a year in her bed. It truly did break my heart to leave her behind, but she was thoughtful enough to give me these to remember her by."

He held up his gloved hands and wiggled them for her approval. Looking closer, Kallian could see that the leather gloves were made from pale _halla_ skin and inked with the swirling designs that the Dalish favored. Raising a brow, she looked back up at him. "That was nice of her. I hope you gave her something in return."

"Just the night of her life." He gave Kallian a saucy grin. "But enough about my failed loves. I would much rather talk about your own romantic entanglement. How goes things with our fair bard? If I am not being too bold, may I ask if—"

"Nope."

"You do not even know what I was going to say."

Kallian rolled her eyes again. "Don't have to know the exact destination, only the direction."

"Alas, you are a miser of details." The assassin chuckled and shook his head. "I suppose I will simply have to rely on my imagination."

Rather than dignify that with a response, Kallian risked a quick look over her shoulder to where Leliana was walking alongside Sten. The bard appeared to be in the middle of an animated, albeit entirely one-sided, conversation with the qunari giant. Smiling for no real reason as she watched Leliana, Kallian laboriously forced her attention back to the road.

She had privately feared that things would be uncomfortable after that night on the docks. It had been a painful and exceptionally uncomfortable moment that had left her feeling unguarded. With no idea of what to expect, Kallian had at least been prepared for Leliana to look at her differently. She would not have even blamed her for that.

The next morning however, the redhead had calmly greeted her with a small smile and asked if she was still feeling sick. Odd as it might sound, it had been in that moment that Kallian had first realized she was in love with Leliana.

A happy shiver ran down her spine and she grinned at Zevran. "If you seriously want to know, things are going well. Really, really, well."

Zevran looked a little thrown by the frank statement. Recovering smoothly, he dipped his head and returned her smile. "Hmm…well, that is splendid to hear. I was hoping for something a little naughtier, but allow me to voice my congratulations regardless."

Kallian was about to respond when an odd sensation suddenly swept over her. Stomach lurching, she came to a halt in the middle of the road and glanced around in confusion. It felt like her blood was thrumming in her veins, and a general sense of malaise began to prickle at the edges of her mind. It felt familiar, but she couldn't quite remember where she had experienced this before.

"Is something wrong? I'm not averse to taking a short rest, but it seems to me that you have chosen an odd place to stop." Zevran cocked his head to one side and stare at her with something that was approaching concern. Lifting her hand to forestall any further words, Kallian took a few breaths with the hope of dispelling the illness.

She finally placed the odd sensation just as the others drew up with her and Zevran. Turning her head, she met Alistair's eyes and made an encompassing gesture towards herself. "Are you feeling this?"

"Oh yeah, it's like being in the Deep Roads all over again." Alistair was looking a little grey in the face and his voice sounded uncertain as he scanned the trees that lined the southern portion of the roads. "But at the same time, it doesn't seem right. There has to be Darkspawn nearby, but it's like they're being masked or something."

Kallian nodded. "I can't tell which direction this is coming from. Shouldn't we be able to feel them individually?"

"We should. This is weird."

Wynne stepped closer and wiped the sweat off of her brow. "My understanding was that the Darkspawn were being held at bay by the southern fortresses. How is it possible that they've travelled this far north?"

"It's probably a raiding party using the tunnel systems below the mountains. The dwarves would stop any sizable force from travelling the Deep Roads, but a small number might have been able slip through without being noticed." Alistair murmured softly as he kept his eyes on the trees. "Where are they hiding?"

It was a good question, and the entire party fell silent as they collectively scanned their surroundings. The road they were taking had led them to a narrow pass that passed between two adjoining hills. While the trees to the south certainly provided the most cover, it would be difficult for any enemy to attack uphill while encumbered by the powdery snowdrifts. North of them, the hill sloped upwards at a deceptively gentle angle. It would be just as difficult for an enemy to attack from above due to the relative steepness of the slope. That pretty much limited the options to the road in front of them.

"There." Alistair extended his arm and pointed at a portion of road that ran along the tree line. It was about a mile further down, and it was situated nearby a blind corner as the road looped around the side of the hill. "If that isn't the perfect place for an ambush, then I don't know what is. They'd be able to flank us from the trees and tear us to pieces."

"That's a little obvious, no?" Zevran rubbed his chin and peered over in the direction Alistair had indicated. "Surely they have more imagination than that."

"Darkspawn can be cunning, but they tend to be direct when it comes to this kind of thing."

Sten folded his massive arms. "If you are capable of sensing them, does that mean they are also aware of our presence?"

Alistair nodded. "Definitely."

"So, what are we gonna do?" Kallian shifted from foot to foot impatiently. "I vote that we don't walk straight into the ambush this time."

Alistair gave her an amused look. "Why not? It's worked twice before."

"We very nearly lost our lives on both those occasions." Morrigan sounded particularly grumpy as she stalked forward. "If we know where they are located, then allow me to destroy them from afar. 'Twould certainly minimize any risk to our own persons."

"Well, we don't _know _that they are there. You might just be obliterating some poor merchant caravan while the Darkspawn watch from somewhere else." Alistair made a low noise of consideration. "Although, one thing we could do is have someone go on ahead and try to bait them out of cover. As soon as they are out in the open, you can blow them all to smithereens or whatever you're planning."

Leliana looked up from where she was stringing her bow. "That sounds like a dangerous job."

"I suppose that it is, but Morrigan has pretty good aim. So long as we have somebody quick acting as the bait, escaping the Darkspawn shouldn't be too much trouble."

"Somebody quick?" Kallian traded a look with Zevran. "He means an elf, doesn't he?"

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't say that…although now that you mention it, you are both very quick. I'd go myself, but have you ever tried to run in plate armor? It's absolute murder."

"Uh-huh," Kallian sighed and nudged Zevran with her elbow. "Flip a coin for who goes?"

"Ah, not to sound like a coward, but don't you think that this task should be yours?" Zevran held out his hands in a beseeching manner. "After all, you are gifted with the remarkable ability to sense these vile creatures. That extra awareness will serve you well."

"Fine, whatever." Kallian rubbed the bridge of her nose and shot a glance at Morrigan. "But I swear to the Maker, if you hit me with some fucked-up blast of—"

The explosion tore her off of her feet.

For a few endless moments, she was completely weightless as she tumbled through the air. Then, with an impact that drove the breath from her lungs, she landed heavily on her side. She must have blacked out for an instant, because the next thing she knew she was lying on her back while feebly gasping for air.

Aside from a sharp ringing in her ears, she couldn't seem to hear anything at all. Utterly concussed, it took her several moments to realize that her left arm was on fire. Out of instinct more than any real thought, she rolled on the burning limb to extinguish the flames against the snow beneath her. Panicked, she tried to push herself off of her stomach only to find that her body wasn't responding like it should. There was something wrong with one of her shoulders, and it took her an eternity to raise herself to her hands and knees.

Peering around blearily, she found herself staring at a catastrophe. Her friends were scattered about the roadside like a collection of discarded dolls. Alistair was closest to her, but the burly human was limp and unmoving. Her dog was lying on Alistair's other side with one of his legs was bent at a funny angle. Coughing as she tried to call out to him, Kallian felt a jolt of terror when she couldn't even hear the sound of her own voice. She lifted a hand to touch the side of her ear and her fingers came away bloody.

Shaking her head slowly in an attempt to clear her muddled thoughts, she slowly tried to force herself to stand. Something had gone terribly wrong, and she had to find Leliana. Wincing as a terrible pain began to blossom along the arm that had been burned, Kallian looked down at her injured limb to assess the damage.

She then wished she hadn't.

Her jacket had been entirely burned away up to her bicep. Much of her exposed flesh was red and cracked, but some parts of her arm had been burned black by the intense heat. When she moved, bits of charred flesh flaked off her skin. Her hand had gotten the worst of it, and she found she could barely move her fingers when she tried. Choking back her horror, Kallian trapped the limb against her body and stood up on wobbling legs.

She could feel other burns along her face and neck, but they paled in comparison to the agony that was her left arm. The explosion had tossed her nearly five yards away from where she had been standing. A large crater had been carved into the side of the hill, and great clouds of steam where still drifting about in thick sheets. Lurching as her head spun wildly, Kallian collapsed back down to one knee and tried to take deep breaths.

Sten was the only other person who had managed to regain his feet. Leaning on his massive sword like it was a crutch, he appeared to be in far better condition than she was. After a moment, his eyes met hers and Sten lumbered over with careful steps. Taking hold her right arm, Sten bodily lifted her to her feet. Her shoulder erupted in agony at the sudden movement, and Kallian let out a silent scream as she sagged against the qunari.

Sten steadied her by taking hold of her upper arms. Staring down at her, his mouth moved to form words that she couldn't hear. Shaking her head in denial, Kallian struggled in his grip until he let her go. Sten looked at her sternly for a moment before pointing south with one hand.

Turning in the direction he had indicated, Kallian felt a cold rush of terror when she saw dark figures moving towards them from the trees. Even from a distance, she immediately recognized the twisted shape of the Darkspawn as they plowed their way up the hillside. It wouldn't be long before the monsters were upon them.

Kallian stared down at them in a daze. There was no way she could possibly fight like this. A sense of inevitability fell over her as her legs gave out and she collapsed onto her knees. This was where they were going to die.

The thought made her feel oddly dispassionate.

Just as she was about to slump over and give up entirely, a brilliant blue light erupted from behind her like the birthing of a new star. All at once, a wave of energy blasted through her with a suddenness that took her breath away. In its wake, her disorientation vanished, and she could even begin to hear a distant rush of noise through the ringing in her ears.

She cried out in pain when her shoulder suddenly wrenched itself back to pop loudly into place. Pulling her burned arm away from her chest, Kallian watched in astonishment as the ruined flesh seem to melt and then knit itself back together. It was surreal and more than a little disgusting.

In the span of a few seconds, her vision cleared up and the sounds of the world returned in a dizzying rush. Standing up on watery legs, Kallian turned to look over her shoulder. The sight that greeted her made her wonder if she was hallucinating.

Wynne was standing in the middle of the road with her arms spread eagle. A radiant blue light was pouring off of her form, and her eyes were shining like perfectly-white beacons. All around her, the rest of the party were slowly pushing themselves their feet. To Kallian's intense relief, she saw Leliana standing up next to Wynne with one hand pressed against her ribs. The bard's shirt was soaked in blood, but her face showed no sign of pain as she picked up her bow from where it had landed in the snow.

"WE HAVE LITTLE TIME." Wynne's voice rang out at a jarring volume. It sounded like several people were all trying to speak through her mouth at one time. "READY YOURSELVES AND KILL THE EMMISARY. WE CANNOT ALLOW IT TO PERFORM ANOTHER SPELL."

Her words were accompanied by a brilliant pulse of light that filled Kallian with the same burst of energy as before. This time though, she felt like the energy filled her muscles with a kind of wonderful power. It was an intense sensation, and Kallian was so caught up in her amazement that she jumped in surprise when a howl of hatred rang out from behind her.

Kallian cursed herself for forgetting the Darkspawn. The first of the monsters were almost upon them, and the party scrambled as they tried to ready weapons in time to meet the attack. Caught off-guard, Kallian didn't even have time to reach for a dagger before the first Hurlock leapt forward to attack her.

Feeling bizarrely composed, Kallian easily stepped back to avoid the jagged sword that the abomination swung at her. Without a moment's hesitation, she punched the Darkspawn in the face and kicked out to strike her foot against its instep. Staggered, the creature grabbed hold of the remnants of her jacket with its free hand. Before it could lift its weapon for another blow, Kallian grabbed hold of its sword arm with both hands and moved so that her back was pressed against its chest. Using her hips as a lever, she pulled down on the Hurlock's arm and wrenched her body to toss the creature over her shoulder. The monster snarled as she slammed it down on its back against the icy road. Pulling a knife from her belt in one smooth motion, she slid it into the side of the Hurlock's neck and tore its throat out with a quick jerk.

Some sixth sense told her there was something behind her, and she whirled about and threw the dagger almost without looking. It slammed into the skull of a charging Genlock to stop the stunted monster in its tracks. Watching as it toppled over, Kallian had the queer sense that this was all a little too easy.

She felt better than she had any right to. Not only was she healed, but she felt stronger and faster than she ever had in her entire life. Somehow, the thought of even making a mistake seemed like a distant impossibility. Clenching and unclenching her fists, Kallian felt a smile cross over her face as euphoria welled up inside of her.

She was ready to murder the shit out of something.

A bestial cry made her look up in time to see a Hurlock stumble back with an arrow sticking out of its eye-socket. Before its body had even touched the snow, a second arrow was already hurtling downhill towards some unfortunate target. Leliana was the best archer Kallian had ever seen, but right now she was moving too fast to believe. It seemed as though she didn't even need to aim as she fired arrow after arrow at the Darkspawn streaming up the hillside.

They were all moving differently. Oghren was a blur of metal and muscle as he chopped his way through Darkspawn like they were nothing more than children. A fully-healed Alistair was fending off three Hurlocks with apparent ease, and Kallian could barely keep track of Zevran as the assassin darted among their enemies with lethal efficiency.

A solitary figure standing amongst the trees caught her attention. Unlike the other Darkspawn, this one had chosen to lag behind while the Hurlocks and Genlocks charged. Thin, and dressed in a tattered robe, the bald figure raised a black staff of wood above its head and began to sway back and forth. The Emissary was readying another spell like the one that had nearly killed them, and Kallian would be damned before it had a chance to finish the job.

But, she'd need a Templar to take on something like that.

She launched herself towards Alistair with a surge of joy. Pulling a slender knife from her belt with one hand, Kallian drew her short-sword with the other as she closed on the three Hurlocks who were trying to get past Alistair's defense. They were completely focused on the human in front of them, and it was the work of moment to hamstring one who was closest to her. Stepping over the writhing creature as it clutched at its leg, she plunged her dagger into the back of the next Hurlock's neck.

The final Darkspawn turned to meet the new threat, and was almost instantly decapitated by Alistair's sword. Bending down to finish off the Hurlock she had attacked first, Kallian straightened up to meet Alistair's eyes. He was wearing a wide smile that mirrored her own and she had no doubt that he was feeling the same ecstasy she was.

She jerked her head to the south. "Let's go kill that Emissary."

"Hell yes!" Alistair barked a laugh and began charging down the hill without hesitation. Practically shaking with anticipation, Kallian ran after him with her weapons held at the ready. Before they had gotten more twenty yards down the hill, four Hurlocks rallied together in an attempt to stop them.

Alistair didn't even break stride when they reached the first of the Darkspawn. Raising his shield, he bodily slammed into the unfortunate monster with enough force to send it hurling backwards. Still laughing, he ran past the fallen Hurlock so that he could engage the ones behind it. Kallian finished off the dazed Darkspawn with a quick thrust before moving up behind Alistair to support him.

They worked well together as a team. Alistair used his armor and his shield to force openings in the Hurlocks' defenses, and Kallian leapt around him to lash out when their enemy was distracted. In less than five seconds, they cut down two of the remaining Hurlocks. The last one managed to slice a shallow cut on Kallian's upper arm, but the remaining scraps of her jacket absorbed the worst of the blow. The attack also left the Darkspawn exposed, and Alistair caved in its skull with the side of his shield.

That left the path to the Emissary free and clear. The Darkspawn spellcaster seemed to be almost panicking as it attempted to gather power to complete its spell. Once they had drawn close enough, Alistair came to a dead stop and drew a quick symbol in the air. Clenching his fist tightly, he spat out a single word that resonated with power. Immediately, the magic energy that surrounded the Emissary's staff dissipated with a sharp crack. Staggering, the creature stumbled backwards with a cry.

Kallian covered the remaining distance to the Emissary in a few long strides. Ramming her dagger into the monster's breast, she raised her sword and chopped down right at the junction between its neck and shoulders. The enchanted blade passed cleanly through flesh, and the Emissary crumpled to the ground as black blood sprayed from the terrible wound in its neck.

Chuckling breathlessly, Kallian yanked both her weapons free and turned to see how Alistair was doing. The human gave her an elated grin before whipping his head about in search of more enemies. Kallian followed his example and was disappointed to see that the Darkspawn had been more or less obliterated. There was a single Genlock running downhill in retreat, but the massive brown bear running after it said volumes about its eventual fate. It seemed like Morrigan would be the one to end this battle.

In the she noticed that the bright blue glow had vanished from the battlefield. Whatever Wynne had been doing, it seemed as though it was over.

Just as quickly as it had come, the wonderful power coursing through her vanished all at once. Slumping as her body suddenly felt incredibly heavy, Kallian sat down in the cold snow with a heavy thump. Across from her, Alistair wilted in a similar manner. She didn't know how he was doing, but Kallian was so tired that she had to fight to keep her eyes open.

Shaking his head, Alistair sighed and gave her a wry look. "So…that didn't go as planned."

"Yeah, no shit."

…

xxXxx

After dinner, the overall mood of the group could generously be described as subdued.

They had only been able to travel a few miles from the sight of the battle before everyone had all but collapsed along the roadside. Wynne's magic had taken a tremendous toll on the entire party. Kallian had been dead on her feet when Alistair had finally told them to make camp, and she was better off than most of the rest. As bad as her burns had been, they paled in comparison to the wounds Leliana and Oghren had received. From what she had heard from Zevran, the dwarf would most likely have died from his injuries had it not been for Wynne's magic.

Technically speaking, they all would have died if it hadn't been for Wynne.

Exactly what the old mage had done was still something of a mystery. Immediately after the battle, Wynne had fallen into an extremely deep sleep. After Alistair's attempts to wake her had failed, he and Sten had taken turns carrying her until everyone was too exhausted to go any further.

Thankfully, Wynne had awoken only a half-hour after they had finished setting up camp. She had been pretty disorientated, so it looked as though questions were going to have to wait until after she had recovered. For the mean time, Kallian was perfectly happy to sit by the fire and stare mindlessly off into the distance.

Her trusty leather jacket had finally been retired. The flames from the fireball spell had transformed the garment into a tattered and smoky remnant of its former glory. Without its warmth, Kallian was finding the chill of the mountain air to be almost unbearable. She still had some thick woolen shirts and her cloak, but the jacket had done wonders to fend off the worst of the wind. If she couldn't find a replacement of some sort in Haven, she had a feeling she would be freezing to death at some point in this adventure.

The one bright spot of the evening was that they had actually found a nice place to spend the night. Sheltered on the leeside of a large hill, the relatively flat campground was also nearby a small stream that had frozen over. After Sten had cracked the ice, fresh water was readily available.

They had built the fire against the stone of the hillside. Morrigan had gotten rid of most of the snow around the fire pit with a clever spell that had made the ice evaporate into thin air. Rather than take the time to search for logs or stones to sit upon, everyone had mostly slumped down directly on the freshly cleared dirt. Aside from Alistair and Wynne, the entire group was gathered around the flickering campfire.

Kallian was sitting with her back against the stony face of the cliff. After they had all finished eating a quick dinner, Leliana had come over to sit in between Kallian's legs. Since then, Leliana had practically fallen asleep in her embrace. It felt nice to have a reminder that everything was okay between them, and Kallian welcomed the extra warmth as they shared her cloak.

The weary silence was broken when Oghren let out a plaintive sigh. "This is the worst day of my entire life."

"Oh come now, it's hardly even noticeable." Zevran patted the dwarf on the back with a poorly concealed grin. "I'm certain that anyone we meet will just assume that you are the forerunner of a daring new fashion trend. You should wear it as a badge of honor."

Kallian found the energy to smirk. Though Oghren had recovered every bit as quickly as the rest of them, his brush with death had left a scar. His magnificent plaited beard had been largely burned off on one side of his face. Leliana had offered to even it out for him, but Oghren had refused to let anyone touch his remaining whiskers. This had the unfortunate result of leaving him with the most comically-lopsided assortment of facial hair imaginable. Each individual side of his face looked as though it could belong to an entirely different person.

Oghren shook his head. "By the Stone, if my pappy could see me now he'd bash me upside the head with a turnip just like he used to when I was a boy. The men in my family have always had beards to be proud of. Hell, I began growin' this beauty when I was just twelve-years old!"

"Your sire would strike you with produce?" Sten gave the dwarf an incredulous look. "Regularly?"

"O'course, every time I was actin' like an idiot, he'd give me a good wallop and call me a 'fart-sniffer'. It made me into the man I am today." Oghren fingered the singed ends of his beard with a sigh. "Or at least, the man I was."

Leliana stirred and lifted her head to softly murmur so that the others could not hear. "The pieces are beginning to fall into place."

"Be nice, he's having a rough day." Kallian stifled a yawn and pulled Leliana a little tight against her chest. "We all are now that I think about it."

The bard gave a slight nod. "I was worried about you. After the explosion, I mean."

"Yeah, I was worried about you too."

Leliana nodded once more and then closed her eyes as her head lolled back to rest against Kallian's breast. Their private conversation had gone unnoticed by the others, and it seemed like the topic had not stayed too far from Oghren's beard.

"There was a sub-sect of the Qun who would shave off all the hair on one side of their head." Sten gestured to his own head for emphasis. "They did so to identify themselves as following a particular path. Those that shaved the left side were warriors and craftsman, and those that shaved the right side were merchants and scholars. They considered this to be a sign of piety."

Oghren tapped his disjointed beard thoughtfully. "So, these people were considered special or somethin'? You know, like they were better than everyone else?"

"No, they were considered heretics and were systematically eradicated."

"Shitfire."

Oghren shook his head mournfully and muttered something into his beer. On the other side of the fire, Boss was snoring gently as his legs twitched in his sleep. The Mabari had barely even taken the time to wolf down his dinner before he had collapsed into a furry pile. If it hadn't been for the fact that Kallian wanted a chance to speak with Wynne, she'd be following in his example.

Her eyelids were starting to droop when the gentle crunch of footsteps in snow made her look up. Wynne and Alistair was slowly making their way over from where the party had pitched the tents. Even with her staff to help her along, Wynne seemed to be leaning heavily on Alistair's arm as they went.

A chorus of soft greetings rose up from the group as the two of them settled down next to Zevran. Wynne gave them a tired smile as she helped herself to some of the hearty soup that Morrigan had put together from a few pieces of salted pork and beans. As she did, she glanced around the fire with a knowing look. "I suppose that you would all like to know what happened today."

Leliana waved a dismissive hand. "We can wait until after you've eaten. I think you've earned our patience many times over."

"Thank you, Leliana." Wynne inclined her head in acknowledgement. "But, so long as you don't mind my terrible manners, I'm perfectly willing to talk while I'm eating. I don't know how long I'll be able to last before I will have to go to sleep. Today was very tiring for me."

Morrigan leapt at the invitation. "What form of magic did you employ today? I have never seen its like."

"I would be surprised if you had. There's nothing about my condition in any of the books that I've read. Considering that I've studied most everything that pertains to the school of Creation, I've come to believe that I may be unique." Wynne took a bite of soup before continuing. "Not that I mean to brag."

The witch gave her a speculative look. "It did not feel like ordinary magic to me. If I were to be perfectly honest, I would say that it felt more like blood magic."

"My condition is not ordinary, but nor is it the product of blood magic. What you were sensing was merely the nature of the power. Like blood magic, what you saw today is arcane and far older than we could even fathom. That is where the similarities end."

Alistair was sitting with his arms dangling over his knees. He gave Wynne a thoughtful look. "Sorry, I'm a bit lost. Why do you keep referring to all this as your 'condition'?"

"Hmm, that is something of a story." Wynne paused with her spoon raised halfway to her mouth. "If you all are willing to indulge an old woman in her ramblings, I will try my best to explain things. I'll warn you before I begin; I don't know if I fully understand this myself."

Kallian shrugged. "Go for it. We'll nod politely even if it's over our heads."

"Very well then," Wynne smiled faintly. "I suppose I should start by making sure we are all on the same page when it comes to the Fade. As you know, the Fade is the source of magic and home to malevolent entities that we call demons. Thanks largely to the Chantry, this is common knowledge that every child in Ferelden could recount at the drop of the hat. However, most people are not aware that demons are not the sole denizens of the Dreaming Realm."

This was of particular interest to Kallian. She could still vividly recall the name of the creature that Zathrian had spoken to her about. While she was no longer certain that this "Formorie" actually existed, it didn't stop a cold shiver from crawling down her spine. Shaking it off with a little jerk, she straightened up to pay closer attention.

"You see, there are also benevolent spirits who are free of any insidious intent. Just as the demons embody vices and sins, the spirits manifest themselves as paragons of specific virtues. While they are considerably less common than their more notorious brethren, the Circle has recorded encounters with spirits of Justice, Compassion, and Bravery."

Zevran raised a hand like a child answering a question in school. "Forgive me, but if this is indeed the case, why is it that none of these spirits have ever entered our world? Considering how much fuss is made regarding Abominations, one would think there would be a commotion if a friendly demon were to suddenly appear."

"Who is to say what their reasons might be?" Wynne held up her hands helplessly. "They have never chosen to cross into our world to my knowledge. However, they do interact with us through less dramatic means."

Alistair nodded. "You're talking about Spirit Healers."

"Indeed. Certain mages are born with a natural affinity for the Fade. While this initially makes them more vulnerable to possession by a demon, it also grants them the ability to commune with the spirits on a more involved level." She took another mouthful of soup and swallowed. "I am one such person."

Sten tilted his head. "A mage who is more likely to lose control is a frightening proposition."

"Perhaps, but many would say that a Spirit Healer is well worth the risk. Ordinary healing magic is inefficient and not nearly as effective." Wynne gave the qunari a reassuring look. "It's a minor interaction to be honest. I simply borrow some of these spirits' power to aid in my work. There is no risk of being possessed even if the spirits were inclined to try."

Alistair started to ask a question, but a loud crack sounded from the fire pit and several of the logs collapsed. The conversation lulled as Zevran quickly stacked a few fresh logs on the dwindling fire. In addition to clearing the ground, Morrigan had also done something to dry out the wood so that it would burn cleanly. Kallian had decided that while magic was a strange and dangerous force, it could be damn useful when it wasn't being used against you.

Oghren resumed the conversation with a grunt. "So this spirit mumbo-jumbo is what saved our fruits today?"

"Not exactly," Wynne cleared her throat in way that struck Kallian as uncomfortable. "What you saw today was related, but it was not the type of thing most Spirit Healers are capable of. You see, after an unusual occurrence back at the Circle Tower, I have been blessed with a number of unique qualities."

"Unusual occurrence?" Morrigan was watching Wynne closely with her cat-like gaze. "Exactly what do you mean by that?"

"Well, when the Tower was suffering from the demonic incursion, I was unfortunate enough to die."

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Kallian raised her brows and exchanged a look with Alistair over the fire. The uncomfortable notion that Wynne may not have fully recovered from her exertions on the road passed through her mind.

Finally, Alistair held up a finger. "Now, when you say 'die'…?"

"I mean that quite literally. An Abomination caught me off guard and killed me before I could react. I was dead in every sense of the word, and I passed over into the Fade."

Oghren took a sip of beer. "Yer pretty sprightly for a dead woman."

"Thank you, Oghren." Wynne favored him with a smile that may or may not have been sarcastic. "As you can see, I did not remain dead. For a reason I cannot quite explain, I was brought back by a spirit that I had encountered several times in my dreams. I believe it to be a spirit of Faith."

"That is ridiculous." Morrigan scoffed in dismissal. "Never has such a thing been recorded. There is nothing to suggest that the spirits even have the capacity to restore life."

Wynne actually nodded in agreement. "As I said earlier, I believe myself to be unique. On that note, I feel I must also place emphasis on the fact that the spirit did not truly restore my life. Rather, it lent me its power so that I might continue on a little longer. Put simply, I'm living on borrowed time."

Kallian frowned slightly. "Why would it do something like that?"

"I'm not certain. I've been interacting with this particular spirit since I was a child. It's always filled me a sense of safety and goodwill. My belief is that it brought me back for a reason." Wynne gave Kallian and Alistair pointed looks. "Namely, I think it did so with the intention that I assist the two of you in your duty."

"I see," Alistair looked a little dubious. "So, what's the deal with the glowing and the weird voice? I don't want to be complaining of course, but I don't understand how you did all of that."

"I allowed the spirit to manifest through my body. The healing and the other effects were all the result of its power. As you can see, it's startlingly effective even if it does require a tremendous amount of energy both from the spirit and from those it is affecting."

Sten sat up rigid. "Then you are an Abomination."

"Well, I would much prefer the term 'Vessel', but yes, there are technical similarities between the two." Wynne's voice was clipped as she spoke. "I allowed the spirit to control my body in order to save all of our lives. As you can see, it did nothing to harm any of us."

"This time." Sten practically growled. "But those that play with fire are inevitably burned."

Zevran chuckled and waved him down. "Overly clichéd statements aside, I think that Wynne is more informed than the rest of us when it comes to this type of thing. I for one will say nothing to challenge the woman who was good enough to keep me from a horrible death."

Alistair held up his hands. "Nobody is challenging anybody. I think we can all safely say that we are grateful for what Wynne did for us today."

There was a chorus of murmured agreement with Sten as the noticeable exception. Kallian joined in without hesitation. The memory of her burned arm was still fresh in her mind, and she couldn't even begin to think about what would have happened if Wynne hadn't been with them. That type of thing earned Wynne her trust even if the elderly mage was a vessel for some bizarre spirit.

"You are all very welcome." Wynne looked rather pleased by their approval. "I only wish that the side-effects weren't quite so severe. I fear that we will all be a little tired for the next day or two. Healing that much damage all at once takes its toll on the body."

Alistair rubbed at his eyes. "Yes, I'm beginning to understand that. Thank you for explaining things Wynne."

"Yeah, that was definitely interesting." Kallian flashed Wynne a tired grin. "Although, I gotta ask: what happens when you use up this power that the spirit left you?"

Wynne furrowed her brow. "Well, I suspect that I will die for good."

"Oh…so you probably shouldn't go about doing the whole glowing thing again."

"I concur."

The conversation trailed off as everyone seemed to lose themselves in their own thoughts. Kallian was too weary to even think, so she just stared off into space as she listened to the crackling of the fire. Leliana was a warm weight against her chest, and she found herself feeling oddly content for someone who had very nearly died a few hours ago.

Zevran finally broke the silence by standing up. "As lovely as tonight has been, I fear that I am falling asleep. I bid you all a good night."

It was the trigger that set off all the rest. One by one, the rest of the party stood up and made their way for the tents. Alistair helped Wynne up and gave Kallian a concerned smile. "Are you going to be alright on the first watch? You can wake me up early if you're feeling like you are going to fall asleep."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I can deal with being tired."

"If you are sure, but the offer stands."

Kallian watched them shuffle off to leave her and Leliana alone. She had volunteered them for the first watch in the hopes of getting a chance to have some privacy. They hadn't had many opportunities to be alone in the last few days, and there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that the others would be sleeping heavily tonight. If she played her cards right, there was always the chance that she and Leliana could do a little more than talk. It would certainly be a good way to pass a boring watch.

She leaned down to whisper in Leliana's ear. "So, how are you feeling?"

The bard didn't respond. Confused, Kallian tried again after a few seconds of waiting.

"Uh…Leliana?"

Leliana made an inarticulate sound and shifted in Kallian's arms. She then released a sleepy sigh before going still once more. Belatedly realizing that Leliana had fallen asleep, Kallian leaned back against the stone wall with a faint grin. She wondered how much of Wynne's explanation Leliana had ended up missing. It had been a long time since the bard had spoken.

Kallian settled in for what looked to be a quiet shift. Some small part of her was vaguely disappointed that Leliana had fallen asleep on her. Even so, listening to Leliana's soft breathing made her feel like there wasn't any place in the world she would rather be. Kallian was warm, healthy, and holding a beautiful woman in her arms.

Yeah, this wasn't so bad.

* * *

I have nothing super special to say about this chapter. Thanks to everyone who is reading and that goes double to all of you who were kind enough to review.


	31. Time Stops

**A/N**: Thanks so much to Gorg for beta-ing this chapter. I had so much fun writing every single part of this chapter. I really hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 31-Look Into The Air

-The Frostback Mountains-

* * *

xxXxx

…

It was funny, but in all the stories she had ever heard or told, Leliana couldn't remember a single one that mentioned the heroes doing the dishes.

Oh, there was plenty of fighting dragons and rescuing maidens in those tales, but none of them ever went into detail about how difficult it was to scrape burned beans off the bottom of a cooking pot. Leliana supposed that would make for an exceptionally boring story, but it would at least be an accurate one.

She grinned to herself as she hefted the iron pot off of the ground by the fire. Considering that the meal had been nothing but a few scrawny rabbits and a generous measure of beans, there was an unreasonable number of plates and pots that needed to be cleaned. Alistair had many lovely qualities in her opinion, but the man could burn a salad. Every time it was his turn to cook, the meal was typically messy and filled with unidentifiable flavors. Why it had required two pots to cook beans was a mystery for the ages.

The entire party usually took turns when it came to the evening chores. Tonight, Alistair had been the one to cook while Zevran and Oghren had gone off to gather firewood. Sten had been in charge of melting snow to provide water, and Wynne was allowed to rest on account of her still being tired from the Darkspawn attack two days earlier.

This left the task of dishes to Leliana, Kallian, and Morrigan.

She carried the cooking pot away from camp to where the three of them were working. Kallian and Morrigan were sitting on a fallen log with the larger cooking pot set in front of them. They had filled it with hot water earlier, and were using it to wash off the plates and spoons that had been used during dinner.

Leliana would confess that she felt a little uncomfortable to see the two of them sitting together under the blazing light of Morrigan's staff. Kallian and Morrigan were friends, but the witch had never been very friendly towards Leliana. While she wouldn't go so far as to say that she disliked Morrigan, she did not care for the mage's tendency towards cruelty. All the same, she felt compelled to make an effort to befriend the other woman simply because Kallian seemed to enjoy her company.

As she approached, she heard Morrigan muttering something in a disbelieving tone. "—eat this slop? 'Twould be difficult to even describe this as food."

"I dunno," Kallian was using a wad of cloth to scrub off the food that had gathered on a plate. "I thought it was pretty good."

"Good? It tasted like spicy tar!"

Kallian shrugged. "Better than nothing."

The elf glanced up with a smile when Leliana set down the pot and took a seat beside her. Neither of the two cooking pots was overly large, but Leliana was still grateful that Sten and Alistair were the ones who carried them in their packs. Dipping a spare rag in the warm water, Leliana set about trying to remove a stubborn bit of caramelized beans from the base of her pot.

"We made good time from Denerim." Leliana spoke in a conversational tone as she worked. "I'm surprised we've arrived so quickly."

Kallian nodded agreeably. "Yeah, considering how much we slowed down over the last two days, I think we did pretty well. I'm just wondering what we are going to find when we get to Haven tomorrow. I really hope this wasn't all for nothing."

"Oh, I'm certain 'twill all be for nothing." Morrigan clucked her tongue and handed Kallian another plate. "Even if we are fortunate enough to locate this wayward brother, our ultimate goal is still nothing more than a children's fairytale. We may as well be looking for a stag with white fur and golden horns."

Morrigan's words sounded terribly familiar, and Leliana brightened once she recognized the allusion. "A white stag with golden horns? I would have never had guessed that you were familiar with the story of the Huntsman and the Woods. It has always been one of my personal favorites. How did you ever come to hear it? I thought it was only popular in Orlais."

The witch gave her a surprised look. "I…my mother used to tell it to me when I was young girl. She did not often do so, but I remember it clearly."

"I've never heard of it." Kallian glanced between the two of them with a curious expression. "What's it about?"

Leliana smiled as she recalled the old fable. "It is about an extremely talented hunter who provides the meat for an entire village. Every day, he would travel into the forest in the hopes of returning with a deer. However, on one such occasion, he spied a wonderful stag with white fur and horns as golden as the sun. Enraptured by its beauty, he was compelled to chase after it when it turned to flee. The stag proved to be difficult quarry, and it ran far faster than any animal he had ever tracked previously. What's more, the stag seemed to be tireless. Try as he might, he could not gain any ground on the creature."

Kallian set aside the plate she was washing. "Why didn't he just shoot it with an arrow?"

"Archery is not so simple. Every time he stopped to fire an arrow, the stag would cleverly weave through the trees to impede his aim." Leliana always liked it when her audience tried to find some disparity in the story. It was fun to try to adapt the story accordingly. "For five days, he ran after the stag without either sleeping or eating as it led him in circles throughout the expanse of the forest. Just as he was beginning to despair of ever catching the creature, a random stroke of fate caused the stag to stumble on a loose rock. It was a small thing, but it gave the hunter the moment he had been waiting for. With a single well-placed arrow, he slew the magnificent deer."

"Oh, good for the hunter then."

Morrigan chuckled and began scrubbing a plate of her own. Without any prompting, she picked up where Leliana had left off. "Ah, but the story does not end there. When the hunter went to retrieve his prize, he was too weak from running to lift the animal onto his back. With his village many days behind him, he had no way of going to find help. He tried for hours to lift the animal, but it was simply too heavy for him to manage. Exhausted, he covered the stag in snow to conceal it before climbing into a tree to rest for a spell."

Kallian blinked. "Let me guess, he lost the white deer in the snow."

"No, now hush." Morrigan waved her down with a slightly irritated look. "When he finally awoke the next day, he looked down to see that a pack of wolves had discovered his prize during the night. The stag had been torn to pieces, and all that remained was its skeleton. Even the golden horns were gone."

"Damn, that sucks." Kallian shook her head and picked up another plate. "So what happened to the hunter? Did he go back to his village?"

Leliana decided to answer that question. "There are different versions. The traditional ending is that he returned empty-handed and his neighbors starved to death due to the lean winter. That's a bit grim for most children, and the more common ending is that he took one of the creature's ribs as a reminder of his limitations. Either way, the message is the same."

"That wolves are dicks?"

Morrigan tsked softly. "The hunter suffered for pursing an unreasonable goal. He allowed himself to be blinded by a singular desire. Had he abandoned the hunt to pursue more manageable quarry, he might have at least had the strength to carry his prize back to his village. 'Tis a statement about practicality and the perils of pride."

"Is that how you see it?" Leliana made sure her tone was polite and interested. "I've always interpreted it to be a story about the nature of success. While it could indeed be said that the hunter was imprudent, his actions are wonderfully human. He was faced with a tremendous challenge, and success became more important than reason."

The witch frowned at her. "How do you view this as a success? He exhausted himself and was left with nothing to show for the struggle."

"He was left with nothing save for the certainty that he triumphed where so many others would have failed. There's power in that kind of knowledge." Leliana smiled at Morrigan. "I also think there's an argument to be made that success can look a great deal like failure. The fact that he had nothing to show for his trial did not mean that there was nothing to gain. Perhaps that hunt sustained him in a fashion that a full belly could not."

"A rather idealistic interpretation," Morrigan paused for a moment before shooting a quick glance at Leliana. "But I suppose it may have merit. I had not previously considered the story in such a light."

Leliana had the sneaking suspicion that this was Morrigan's version of being open-minded. "Yes, and that is the true beauty of a good story. Three people can all think it means something different, and all of them may still be correct. It is wonderful that we can find personal significance in something universal."

"I quite agree. On the subject, what did you take from the story, Kallian?"

Kallian looked up from the plate she was scrubbing. "I'm sticking with the wolf thing."

Fighting the urge to laugh, Leliana watched as Morrigan shook her head in exasperation. Though she was fairly sure that Kallian was just baiting the witch, it was always a little hard to tell. The elf was fond of teasing, but her husky voice rarely gave any overt sign of whether or not she was joking.

Regardless, Morrigan seemed to have chosen to respond to Kallian's comment. "Honestly, 'tis as though you take pride in remaining ignorant."

"Hey, I may not be some fussy scholar, but that doesn't mean I'm ignorant." Kallian gave Morrigan a haughty look. "I know plenty of shit about things that are actually important. Say what you want about books, but they are no replacement for a bit of common sense and some street smarts."

"And what, pray tell, are street smarts?"

"Being street smart is knowing who to talk to and who to avoid. It's knowing when an operation is about to go sour, and when a partner is trying to fuck you out of your share." Kallian gave Morrigan's exotic attire a significant look. "Or, that it is best not to attract attention when Templars might have an interest in you."

Morrigan glanced down at herself with an unsure expression on her face. "What is that meant to suggest?"

"It is nothing negative, Morrigan." Leliana hurried to intervene before Kallian could say something blunt. She didn't want Morrigan to feel as though she had to be on the defensive. "All Kallian is trying to say is that you have a distinctive style. I personally think that is a good thing. Since we are on the subject of your robes; did you make them yourself?"

"I did," Morrigan gazed at her through narrowed eyes as though suspicious of some subtle slight. "What significance does that hold?"

"They are very lovely. I doubt most of us could pull them off, but they suit you very well." Leliana flashed Morrigan a pleasant smile to assure the witch that she wasn't poking fun. "Actually, I think there would be a great number of dressmakers in Orlais who would commit murder to design something so simultaneously wild and elegant."

That last comment was dangerously close to flattery, but it had its intended effect. Morrigan brushed a hand over her robes with a self-conscious gesture. While Morrigan's attention was diverted, Kallian shot Leliana a quick, knowing look. Raising her brows innocently, Leliana spread her hands as if to show that she were unarmed.

Morrigan looked up and cleared her throat in casual dismissal. "'Twas no great matter to design them. In truth, I mostly patched them together as I went."

"Well, that makes them all the more impressive."

A small little smile flitted briefly over Morrigan's face before the witch turned back to the plate she was washing. Pointedly ignoring the sly look Kallian was sending her way, Leliana picked up a small hunk of wood to better scrap off some of the burned food that had collected on the bottom of the cooking pot. Whatever Kallian might think, Leliana wasn't being disingenuous. Morrigan's robes were quite lovely even if they showed more skin than polite company would typically allow.

Kallian finished drying one of the wooden plates and cracked her knuckles loudly once she had set it aside. "So, anyone want to place a bet on how long it's going to take Oghren to shave the other side of his beard?"

"He may never do it." Leliana clucked her tongue. "I overheard him asking Wynne if she could re-grow hair with magic the other night."

"I take it that she said no."

"Of course she did."

Morrigan let off a merciless little laugh. "As she should. Magic is not to be used to solve every minor problem. He should simply shave and wait for nature to return it to him."

Kallian grinned at that. "I dunno, I kinda feel bad for him. From what he was saying, having a beard is kind of a big deal in Orzammar. Apparently, only the dwarves who were born above ground shave their beards. He's pretty upset about the entire thing."

"I hope he does shave it. His hygiene is atrocious." Leliana pulled a face as she thought back to the last time she had seen Oghren up close. "It's as though more food goes into his beard than into his mouth."

It felt good to be sitting here talking about ordinary things. For the longest time, it had felt like every conversation that she had revolved around pivotal events or major emotional trauma. Leliana missed being able to simply gossip and laugh with other people. Back in Lothering, she had made several good friends whom she had spoken with on a regular basis. It was odd to think that in a few short months, she had gone from living with Chantry Sisters and farmers, to travelling with apostates and elven thieves.

"I have a wonder, if I may." Morrigan's voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant as she spoke. "'Tis a personal matter I am afraid. I would understand if the two of you did not wish to speak of it."

Leliana traded a look with Kallian. This sounded very promising. Nodding slowly, Kallian answered for them both. "Sure, go ahead."

"I suppose I am simply curious as to how this all began." Morrigan gestured at the two of them in emphasis. "Your courtship, that is."

Kallian readjusted her bandana with one hand and gave Morrigan a funny look. "Uh-huh…is this because we're both women?"

"No, that doesn't have any particular bearing on what I was asking." The witch shook her head and coughed softly. "My curiosity was more focused on the actual mechanics of the courtship. How exactly did this come to be? Surely the two of you did not just wake up one morning in each other's embrace."

If it were any other woman, Leliana might have been inclined to say that Morrigan was asking for "details". As it were, that type of frivolity did not seem to be the type of thing that Morrigan would care about. Shrugging, she decided to see were this was headed. "Well, it started in the way that I suspect all relationships begin. I found Kallian to be attractive, and I would hope that she felt the same way about me."

Kallian agreed in a gratifyingly quick manner. "Yep, that's for sure."

"I understand the principles behind _attraction_." Morrigan was beginning to sound frustrated. "Allow me to be even more direct: I would like to know how the two of you furthered the relationship past the point of simple attraction. What precisely did you do to let the other know that you had an interest in them?"

"Oh," Kallian bit her lip and glanced at Leliana. "I guess that I'd have to give credit to the brandy for that one."

Leliana nodded. "The brandy seemed to help."

"Brandy? I do not understand." Morrigan frowned at them both.

"We shared a few drinks at this tavern back in Orzammar. After a few glasses of brandy, it gets a lot easier to be upfront about these types of things." Kallian rolled her shoulder in a small shrug. "Especially 'cause I wasn't sure which direction Leliana was leaning if you catch my drift. So, a little bit of liquid courage really helped to settle the nerves."

Morrigan glanced between them with a disbelieving look. "That is how your courtship began? With alcohol?"

"Not quite. We danced around the issue for a week or so. The Deep Roads were hardly the ideal location for such a thing." Leliana smiled as she thought back to the night beside the river. "After Orzammar, we got to talking one night and Kallian was kind enough to give me a lovely gift. From there, things more or less fell into place."

The witch turned her face to regard Kallian. "What did you give her?"

"Flowers."

Leliana smiled. "They had sentimental value to me. I had mentioned them just after we had met, and Kallian somehow remembered. I thought it was terribly sweet of her."

Kallian ducked her head with a small chuckle, and even though Leliana couldn't see her face, she had a feeling that the elf was blushing. For some reason, that knowledge prompted a little pulse of affection to surge in her chest. On Kallian's other side, Morrigan looked as though she was mulling this over. At length, the witch asked another question.

"To clarify, the intrinsic value of the gift was unimportant?"

Leliana clasped her hands in front of her. "I found it to be much more impressive that she could remember such a small thing. It showed me that she had an interest in me as a person."

"I see," Morrigan nodded slowly. "What happened after this?"

Kallian chose to answer. "We just sort of spent time together and found out about each other. There wasn't any big secret or special thing that happened."

"It sounds rather simple."

Leliana began drying her last plate. "Well, it is simple. What else are two people expected to do?"

"I do not know." Morrigan sounded a little uncomfortable. "My mother had me engage in relations with some of the men who lived around our swamps for the purpose of educating myself. However, I do not believe that my experiences are similar to yours. For one thing, those encounters required a great deal less talking. I simply had to offer myself, and the men would take care of the rest."

Kallian grimaced. "That sounds a little fucked up, Morrigan."

"Why? 'twas pleasurable enough." The witch looked confused. "Mother always noted that the act of copulation is perfectly natural."

"It is natural, and it can be one of the most wonderful things on this earth." Leliana spoke gently to put Morrigan at ease. "However, the way your mother had you experience it is not exactly common. There is a difference between having sex and having a relationship. It sounds as though you've already learned that it is much easier to have the former. Whether or not it is as fulfilling is another matter entirely."

Morrigan stared at her for a long moment. "I see. Thank you both for explaining this to me."

"Yeah, no problem." Kallian dried off a handful of spoons before arching her back in a catlike stretch. "Why'd you want to know?"

The witch blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you want to know about relationships?" Kallian gave Morrigan a quizzical look as she set about gathering the cleaned dishes in neat piles. "I mean, it's a little out of blue."

Morrigan folded her arms across her chest. "I had no pressing reason. I was simply curious regarding the mating habits of other people. I will admit to be rather uniformed when it comes to the customs of society. The swamp were I spent my earlier years was isolated from the rest of the world."

"Huh," Kallian gave Leliana a wry look. "I wasn't aware we had mating habits."

Leliana smirked at her. "Technically speaking, we don't. At least, not yet."

The elf definitely blushed this time. Lifting one hand to rub at the back of her neck, Kallian mumbled a response. "Eh-heh-heh….private topics, Leliana."

Morrigan looked amused by Kallian's embarrassment as she stood up and gathered a load of dishes in her arms. She looked to be on the verge of stalking away, but she paused before she had gone more than a step or two. "This was enjoyable."

"Yes, sometimes it's nice to talk when it's just us girls." Leliana grinned up at her. "We should do it again some time."

With a slightly stiff nod, Morrigan strode off to leave the two alone. Kallian was still flustered, and Leliana gave her a few moments to recover as she gathered up some of the dishes and the larger of the two cooking pots. Once she had, she turned back to Kallian with a suggestive look. "I forgot my gloves back at my tent, but what do you say we take a walk after I've picked them up?"

To "take a walk" had quickly become their euphemism for getting away from the camp for a little privacy. Kallian initially brightened at her words, but then the elf fixed her with an odd, somewhat secretive look. "You say you left your gloves in your tent?"

"…yes?"

"Oh, ok." A sly little grin spread across Kallian's face. "Tell you what, I'll meet you by the fire after you've got them."

It had never been more obvious that a person was up to something. Studying Kallian's face for some indication of what to expect, Leliana gave the elf a wary nod. "Alright, there are a few other things I need to do, so it may be a while before I'm ready."

"Take all the time you need."

With that, Kallian scooped up the other pot and tottered off in the direction of camp. Leliana watched her go with a suspicious frown. She had never been particularly fond of mischief that she didn't personally create. After a few moments spent trying to figure out what Kallian was up to, Leliana shrugged it off with a resigned sigh.

She'd find out one way or the other.

…

xxXxx

Some fifteen minutes later, she pushed open the flaps to her tent and carefully removed her boots to avoid tracking snow inside. It was nearly impossible on the trail, but Leliana prided herself on keeping her living space as neat as possible. This really wasn't that hard considering that her belongings amounted to little more than a few articles of clothing, some toiletries, and her bedroll. At any given time, Leliana was wearing most of what she owned in the interest of keeping warm.

Inside the tent however, that wasn't so much of problem. Of all of their possessions, the tents were far and away the most expensive and useful. Miracles of dwarven engineering, they were composed of a collection of narrow metal rods and three interconnected pieces of an extremely thin, cloth-like material. The rods were composed of segments that could be unscrewed for transportation, and the fabric weighed even less than silk. Erecting it was a simple matter of sliding the flexible rods through slots in the fabric to bend the tent into place.

Truthfully, they looked fragile and ill-equipped to deal with the rigors of the road. In spite of this, the tents had proven to be extremely resilient to both tears and the elements. Almost more importantly, they also somehow managed to keep the worst of the wind and the cold at bay. Morrigan claimed that the tent's material had been magically-altered, but Oghren had hotly denied this.

Regardless, the tents had cost them a small fortune even though the vendor at Orzammar had given them a considerable discount for buying in bulk. Alistair had pooled most of their money together as it had become apparent that they were going to be spending a great deal of time outside. At the time, it had left them with barely enough coin to resupply their other essentials, but Leliana had never once regretted the purchase. The tents they had prior to these had been heavy and poorly-suited to the wet conditions of a Fereldan winter. Most of those had been no more complicated than a large swatch of cloth that required the user to lash a wooden frame together each time they were set up.

Plus, these new tents had floors and ground tarps sewn to the main body of the tent. That trait alone made them more precious than gold when the ground was entirely blanketed in snow.

After she had finished with the dishes, Leliana had taken a few moments to look after some necessary tasks. Her first order of business had been to scrub her teeth with a gritty paste that tasted heavily of spearmint. In Orlais, she had used a fine powder to clean her teeth, but this paste was more pleasant in her opinion. Every few weeks, Morrigan was kind enough to mix up a few pots of the concoction for the party's use.

She had then taken the time to brush her hair and wash her face with a damp rag. Some people might consider these to be unnecessary vanities while on the trail, but Leliana saw these small measures as nothing short of crucial. It was part of who she was, and Leliana saw no reason to neglect her appearance simply because she wasn't in the Empress's court.

Besides, she wanted to look nice for a certain someone.

Leliana sat down on top of her bedroll and brushed a hand over the rabbit skin pelts that made up her heaviest blanket. A part of her wanted to crawl underneath them and fall asleep in spite of the fact that it was still fairly early. Today had been a tiring ordeal, and she could feel a slight protest in her legs and shoulders every time she moved.

It was a tempting prospect, but Leliana had plans for the evening. Groping about blindly for her waylaid pair of gloves, she paused when her fingers knocked against something unfamiliar. Confused, she reached over and picked up what felt like a lumpy, paper-wrapped package.

Pulling it closer to better examine this sudden development, Leliana reached back with her other hand and pushed the flaps of the tent open to let the feeble light of the campfire stream inside. Her first guess had been fairly accurate. Whatever this was, it had been clumsily bound in brown butcher's paper and some rough twine.

A grin spread across her lips as she experimentally plucked at the bow that had been tied at the top. Kallian's mysterious behavior suddenly made a great deal more sense. Wondering when the elf had snuck into her tent, Leliana worked the knot free and folded back the paper that covered the parcel to reveal something that made her eyes widen.

It took her few beats to work through her surprise, but once she had, Leliana raised one hand to her mouth and laughed softly. Staring back at her from among the layers of butcher paper, the delicate blue-slippers seemed entirely out of place.

This really shouldn't be possible. Not only did Kallian not have the money to buy such a thing, but she hadn't even had the time to make it back to the shoe store the two of them had visited. Yet, the slippers were sitting in front of her looking as beautiful as ever. Pulling them free from the paper, Leliana set them upon her lap and gently stroked one of the pale ribbons that made up the ties. A quick look told her that they were in her size as well. Unbelievable as it may seem, these were the exact pair they had looked at.

She took one of the shoes and slipped it onto her right foot. It was a touch to tight, but that was likely due to the thick wool socks she was wearing. Wiggling her foot about for a moment, Leliana found that she couldn't stop smiling a wide and completely silly smile.

After taking a brief moment to admire the shoe for all that it was, Leliana took it off her foot and returned both of the slippers to the paper packaging. Carefully tying them back into a neat bundle, she set the gift to the side of her bedroll and gave it a fond gaze. There would be a time for pretty things, but it was not now. Besides, there were questions she desperately wanted answered.

With that in mind, she put on her gloves and stepped into the high boots that she had abandoned outside of the tent. Adjusting her cloak once she was outside, Leliana took a few moments to compose herself so that she was wearing a more neutral expression. The way Kallian had given her the shoes suggested that the elf was feeling playful, and Leliana was more than willing to buy into the game.

Making her way over to the campfire, Leliana saw that Kallian was not entirely alone. She was sitting with her back to Leliana's tent, and Zevran was lounging on a log across from her with a bottle clutched in one hand. Nearby, Alistair was fiddling with a knife and something else. As Leliana drew closer, she saw that he was working on one of his carvings.

Zevran's eyes snapped up to regard her like two coals flaring with light. Even after all the nighttime excursions she had shared with Kallian, part of her was still unsettled every time she saw the way elven eyes reflected light like those of a cat.

The assassin nodded a short greeting which she returned with a similar nod. She doubted that either of them would ever fully trust another professional, but they had come to an uneasy truce over time. While she wouldn't pretend to like the Antivan, she had come to accept that Zevran wasn't the threat she had initially feared him to be. Casting Zevran from her mind, Leliana took a seat beside Kallian and warmed her gloved hands in front of the fire.

Part of her plan was to not say anything, and she was rewarded when she caught Kallian sneaking a quick, sidelong glance at her. The elf immediately turned her attention back to the small book she was holding in her hands, and Leliana suppressed a smile. She'd let Kallian stew for a tiny bit before letting her know that her gift had been found and appreciated.

Leliana finally took mercy when Kallian began to fidget in place. Pitching her voice low, she let her amusement creep into her tone. "So, how did you do it? Or rather, when did you do it?"

A smile tugged at the edges of Kallian's mouth even though she kept her eyes locked on the blank page in front of her. Holding up a writing quill that she must have borrowed from Wynne, Kallian responded in an overly-innocent tone. "When did I do what?"

"The shoes," Leliana folded her arms under her breasts. "Or am I to believe that someone else in the camp left them for me? Sten perhaps? He does seem like a big softie."

Kallian chuckled softly. "Oh, you're talking about those. If you really want to know, I got them after that night on the docks. It was just after we had returned to the safe house, and I might have given you the impression that I had passed out. Long story short, I hadn't."

"Very clever," Leliana shook her head in a manner that she hoped came off as disapproving and stern. "So what then? Did you sneak off to rob some merchant shop in the dead of night? That hardly sounds like conduct becoming of a Grey Warden."

"It was either that or throw a sack of burning dog shit through his window. I went with the more subtle of the two options."

Leliana nodded her head in exaggerated agreement. "Commendable. I take it this was cathartic in some way?"

"I felt better afterwards if that's what you mean." Kallian closed the book she was holding and drew herself up with a dignified sniff. "And who said that I robbed anybody? I'll have you know that I left payment on his counter before I left."

That was actually a little surprising to Leliana. She cocked her head and gave Kallian a curious look. "Really? How much did you leave?"

"Dunno, depends on how much you think a sack of burning dog shit is worth."

Leliana couldn't help it; she laughed. Raising a hand to muffle the sounds, she laughed so hard that her shoulder shook up and down. It drew a few inquisitive looks from Alistair and Zevran, but both of them went back to their respective activities after it became clear that it was some private joke.

When she had regained her composure, Leliana turned to Kallian to see that the elf was looking more than a little smug at having made Leliana drop character first. Smiling as she shook her head, Leliana settled back on her seat and interlocked her fingers in front of her. After a moment, Kallian set her book aside and turned to face Leliana with eyes that glimmered and sparked in the firelight.

Kallian's eyes might be slightly eerie, but they sent a warm thrill down Leliana's spine all the same. The little quirks that reinforce the fact that Kallian is not human had become more noticeable over time. Like the way that Kallian moved in a manner that is just a bit off. Her gestures were too fluid, and there is a set to her shoulders that Leliana had never seen in another human. These alien qualities were jarring, but they made Kallian special in Leliana's mind.

"Seriously though," Kallian's voice lost the playful lilt that had colored their conversation. "Do you like them?"

Leliana nodded and gave Kallian the warmest smile she could manage. "Oh yes, this may be the single greatest thing anyone has ever done for me. I feel like I should be telling you that what you did was wrong, but it was also terribly sweet of you. It's certainly the first time I would describe burglary and arson as romantic."

Chuckling, the elf ran a hand along her hair. "He had a stone countertop. Nothing important burned down."

"All the same, I absolutely adore them. Thank you so much, Kallian."

"Good, I'm really glad." Kallian hesitated before giving her an earnest look. "I know it sounded like I was just doing it to get back at that store owner or something, but I really did it for you. I wanted to do this to let you know that I appreciate that you were there for me."

"You will never need to thank me for that."

"I wanted to."

Kallian flashed Leliana that lopsided smile of hers, and then shifted her eyes to stare down at the ground in between her feet. This shy little moment was somehow the most attractive thing Leliana had ever seen. Reaching over, she placed a finger under Kallian's chin and tilted the elf's head up.

The warm, orange glow of campfire softened Kallian's sharp features considerably. Admiring the way the light played over the elf's tanned skin, Leliana raised her hand to tuck a few errant locks of Kallian's hair behind her ear. The familiar gesture made Kallian smile even wider, and the sight of her made Leliana's stomach twist in a pleasurable way. She wished that it was within her power to make it so that Kallian would always look as happy and at peace as she did now.

A slow burn of desire flared up inside her chest as she pulled her hand away from Kallian's face. Leliana knew that taking a walk wouldn't be enough tonight. She wanted to do so much more with the lovely, thoughtful woman sitting across from her. Clearing her throat softly, she placed a hand on Kallian's knee and kept her voice at a low murmur.

"You know, I was thinking about my bedroll earlier. Mostly about how soft, and warm, and _inviting_ it is on a night like this." Leliana gave Kallian the most suggestive smile she could manage. "It's enough that I think I might retire early tonight."

A flash of what looked like disappointment appeared behind Kallian's eyes. Coughing uncomfortably, the elf pulled away from Leliana's hand and picked up the book she had discarded. "Oh…ok, I guess I'll just sit out here and work on my journal. I'm supposed to be writing in it anyway."

Leliana withheld a sigh of exasperation. She had forgotten that she was flirting with the most oblivious woman in all of Thedas. "I wasn't aware you had a journal."

"Yeah, Wynne got it for me in Denerim. She wants me to practice my writing." Kallian pulled a face as she opened the slim journal. "The only thing is, I don't know what to write about. Today was boring and I don't want to just talk about how I saw a neat rock or something."

Smirking, Leliana resisted the urge to nudge Kallian in the ribs as she tried again. "Hmm…maybe it is just too distracting to try to write out here in the middle of camp. Maybe you should try going somewhere else. How about a tent? You could use mine if you like."

"Thanks, but I think it would be a little hard to write without the firelight."

For a moment, Leliana wondered if Kallian was just playing with her. It didn't seem possible that all of Leliana's suggestions were going completely over her head. Yet, based on the slightly hurt expression on her face, the elf genuinely seemed to think that Leliana only wanted to go to sleep. Pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment, Leliana shook her head in affectionate amusement. It looked as though she would have no choice but to get straight to the point.

"I know what you could write," Leliana took her hand away from her face and gave Kallian a teasing smile. "It could be: 'Dear journal: Today, I did something very nice for Leliana, and then she invited me to her tent. Sadly, I have no ear for subtly, and her efforts were entirely wasted.'"

All of the failed attempts were worth it just to see understanding finally dawn on the elf's face. It was a bit like watching a deer who had just heard a branch snap. Closing her journal with a jerky motion, Kallian stammered out a response. "O-Oh!...You mean, for…uh, for that?"

Leliana didn't bother to hide her smirk. "Well, _that_ was the plan. However, if you would prefer to just sit out here and work on your writing, I would certainly understand."

"No! Writing sorta sucks." Kallian swallowed and take a deep breath. Grinning sheepishly, she looked up at Leliana through her lashes. "Actually, I'm kinda feeling tired myself. Maybe it would be best if I went to bed a little early as well."

Laughing softly, Leliana stood up and offered Kallian her hand. "Well, if you are afraid that you might collapse before reaching your tent, mine is just over there."

"That might be best." Kallian took her hand, and Leliana pulled the elf to her feet. Shooting a nervous look over at where Zevran was sitting, Kallian turned back to Leliana with a shaky smile. "Should we go now? I mean, if you still want to."

Raising a brow, Leliana didn't bother responding as she tugged Kallian in the direction of her tent. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Alistair was completely absorbed in the small statue he was carving. On the other hand, Zevran was watching them go with open amusement. She didn't know how much of their conversation he had picked up on, but the assassin gave her a pointed wink that told her all she needed to know.

Some stroke of luck or unconscious foresight had led her to pitch her tent away from most of the others. The closest tent to hers belonged to Wynne, and the elderly mage had been sleeping so deeply these last few nights that she would probably doze right through an avalanche.

She kicked off her boots once they had reached her tent and watched as Kallian hurried to do the same. Letting Kallian step inside first, Leliana closed the tent flaps and swiftly tied the three fastenings to keep the fabric closed. Unfastening her cloak with one hand, she dropped it off to the side and then tugged her gloves off with her teeth.

"So, uh…" Kallian's voice drifted from the other side of the tent. "Hey."

The elf sounded nervous, and Leliana really didn't want her to feel that way. Stooping to accommodate the tent's low ceiling, she stepped closer to Kallian and sought out the other woman's hand in the dark. She then lowered herself to sit on top of her bedroll, and gently tugged Kallian down so that the elf was sitting on her lap. Smiling when Kallian's hands came up to twine about her neck, she stroked a comforting hand along Kallian's side.

"Hey yourself."

She leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss against the elf's lips. It was a familiar motion, and Kallian responded eagerly. Sighing when Kallian's lips parted to give her access, Leliana slid an arm in between them to loosen the broach that kept Kallian's cloak fastened about her shoulders. The two of them had to shift about somewhat, but eventually the cloak was discarded off to the side.

Kallian didn't stop there. Pulling away from Leliana for a moment, the elf peeled off her wool sweater leave her in the green tunic that Leliana had given her back at Redcliffe. Kallian moved to straddle Leliana's hips and pulled her into a much more urgent kiss. Leliana ran her hands along the side of Kallian's thighs and vaguely noted that the elf tasted particularly sweet tonight.

She settled back as Kallian's tongue pressed against her own. Lifting her hands, she slid them under the hem of Kallian's tunic to trace along the soft contours of Kallian's ribs. Humming an approval, Kallian lifted her arms to allow Leliana to pull off the tunic entirely.

They were both breathing a little hard when they finally broke away for air. Kallian brought her arms up to lightly drape over Leliana's shoulders as the two of them caught their breath. Lowering her head to Leliana's neck, the elf inhaled deeply and let out a breathy sigh.

"You smell good." Kallian broke off as she planted a string of kisses along the side of Leliana's throat. "Like how it smells after it rains."

Kallian's fingers began to fumble at the buttons on Leliana's shirt. Soon, the two of them descended into a confused jumble as they tore and pulled at each other's clothes as though there were some type of hurry. After a few frenzied moments, Leliana finally relaxed when she felt the full length of the elf's warm skin against her own.

Twisting about, she flipped their positions so that Kallian was lying on her back. It was cold now that they were both free of their clothing, so Leliana reached down to pull her fur blanket up to cover most of their bodies. Stroking the back of her hand along the Kallian's cheek, she ducked down to tenderly kiss the other woman.

It was difficult to remain composed with Kallian's small breasts pressed against her own, but Leliana broke away when she felt the elf stiffen and take a shaky breath. Pushing up onto her elbows, she pulled back to try to make out the expression on Kallian's face.

"Are you alright?" Leliana went still as she waited to see what Kallian would do. "I would understand if this is too soon…"

Not wanting to outright voice her concerns when the two of them were like this, Leliana trailed off lamely. She had forgotten that Kallian might not be ready for this type of intimacy just yet. Worried that this might have been too much and too fast, she tried to give Kallian some space without actually pulling away.

"No, that's not it." Kallian cleared her throat roughly and reached up to cup Leliana's face. "Really, it's not. It's just that I haven't done very much of this before. I keep thinking that I'm going to fuck it up somehow. You know, 'cause I don't want it to be weird or disappointin—"

Leliana smiled and pressed a finger to Kallian's lips to forestall any further words. "Hush, you're being silly."

"Yeah," Kallian drew in a long breath and relaxed somewhat. "Right, I'm just being silly."

Rather than try to say something comforting, Leliana decided to take a more direct approach. Capturing Kallian's lips with her own, Leliana slowly rocked her hips against the elf's until a soft noise of pleasure rumbled from deep in Kallian's throat. A moment later, one of Kallian's legs rose up to press in between her own.

"Hey Leliana?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's try not to wake up Wynne."

Leliana laughed softly and began to trail a line of kisses down Kallian's body. Stopping when the elf let out a soft gasp, Leliana glanced up with a mischievous smirk.

"No promises."

...

xxXxx

* * *

Welp, that's as good a place as any to end the chapter (*insert trollface*)

I feel like I've said this a lot over the course of the fic, but this chapter is probably my favorite. I mean, I ripped off Hemingway, got to write Morrigan, and allowed myself a chapter of untainted fluff. Also, this chapter marks the hardest I have ever laughed at one of my own jokes.

From here, the next few chapters are going to be more plot driven. Haven/The Ashes will probably take 3-4 chapters and then there will just be one final story arc to conclude the fic. I'm really excited about that, because I think the final segment of Thorns is going to be an absolute blast.

Thanks to everyone who read, and please consider leaving a review. This fic has been an enormous time investment, and your wonderful feedback is what I thrive upon.

Until next time!


	32. All The Wine

Chapter 32: All The Wine

-Haven-

* * *

xxXxx

…

_The room she stood in looked like it had seen much better days._

_Most of the frayed tapestries that hung along the walls were rotting and discolored from long exposure to damp air. Narrow pews made out of cheap, cracked wood lined the floor in somber rows like parishioners at a wake. There were no torches, and the fireplace loomed cold and empty against the far wall. _

_The room smelled odd; a damp, musty scent that gave the place a sense of antiquity and decay. Every breath she took could have come from some abandoned library, or else from the houses of the dying. It made the entire room feel lonely and forgotten._

_There was only one other person in the room with her. Standing next to the fireplace, a solitary figure stood perfectly still with its back facing her. Moving forward automatically, she could only watch as the figure turned around to regard her._

_As always, the woman's face was an ever-changing patchwork of faces and expressions. Though each visage only came into being for a bare instant, the woman's eyes and mouth always seemed to remain constant. These three points were the only reliable anchors in the otherwise shifting medley._

_She didn't bother calling out or trying to touch the woman. Whenever she had before, the figure would always move just out of reach or disappear entirely. No, these meetings were always the same: they would stare at one another for a few moments and then the woman would vanish after a handful of cryptic words._

_However, this time was different._

_As she drew closer, the woman's appearance began to fall into focus. Her face stopped its constant shifting to reveal a single set of familiar features. The woman's face was still faintly obscured as though she were standing behind frosted glass, but there was no mistaken who she was now._

_Tawny skin, black hair, amber eyes, and sharp features. _

_Kallian was staring at herself._

_The doppelganger wasn't quite perfect. It looked a little worse for the wear. Dark bruises were splashed across its neck and one side of its face. Also, its lip was torn to allow a thin trickle of blood to spill down its chin in a vibrant red ribbon. The eyes were same, but they were curiously devoid of any signs of life. It was like meeting the gaze of a corpse._

_Kallian stopped a few feet from where the woman stood. Part of her wanted to get away from the twisted parody of herself as quickly as possible, but her body was paralyzed by a crazy sort of calm. She was capable of nothing more dramatic than mutely staring back at her reflection._

_At length, the doppelganger raised a hand and touched Kallian's cheek with two fingers. It was a comforting gesture that imparted no comfort._

"_Don't worry," The thing's voice was as flat and lifeless as its eyes. "Things will be better soon."_

…

…

xxXxx

Kallian woke up feeling warm. Dragging her eyes open, she blinked a few times and let out a small yawn.

It took her sleep-addled mind a few seconds to realize that something was amiss. Instead of waking up curled into a little ball as was her custom, today she was lying on her stomach with a soft, rabbit-skin blanket pulled over her shoulder blades. Even more peculiar, it seemed as though her pillow was moving.

A lazy grin spread across her face as she lifted her head to look up at the woman beside her. Leliana was still fast asleep and the sight of her made Kallian's stomach flutter pleasantly. The bard was using both of their cloaks as a pillow, and her lips were just slightly parted. Suppressing the urge to laugh aloud, Kallian lowered her head back onto Leliana's shoulder and softly nuzzled her cheek against the other woman's skin.

Memories from last night flooded back to her in an exciting rush. Even though part of her felt like a young girl plagued by sappy thoughts, she couldn't help but think that last night had been absolutely amazing. While she had initially felt panicked at the prospect of failing to meet Leliana's expectations, those doubts hadn't lasted long. Apparently, they had both been carrying around a sizable amount of sexual tension. That had made last night an…enthusiastic experience for everyone involved.

And right now, Kallian was feeling really damn good.

The rhythmic thump of Leliana's heartbeat lured her back into a comfortable doze. If it were any other day, they two of them would already have to be up in order to break camp and prepare for the day's journey. Today however, it had been decided that everyone would receive a small reprieve considering how close they were to Haven. Alistair wanted everyone to be ready for whatever might await them, and so it had been decided that they would take their time and proceed with caution.

It was an absolutely marvelous plan in Kallian's opinion. Shifting to entwine her legs with Leliana's, Kallian ghosted her fingertips along the bard's stomach in a slow caress. Glancing down, she silently marveled at the startling contrast between Leliana's pale coloring and her own dusky skin. They were different from each other in so many ways.

She frowned when her fingertips brushed against one of the thin scars that crept up along Leliana's side. From her explorations last night, Kallian knew that the old wounds crisscrossed Leliana's back in a brutal pattern. Kallian had seen enough criminals flogged in Denerim's city center to recognize the marks of a whip. It was a terrifying punishment, and even a few dozen lashes could kill a grown man if the fever set in while he was weak. One of the older elves in the Alienage had once been flogged for attempt to incite a riot. His scars had been hideous, and she recalled that he hadn't been able to raise his left arm above his shoulder as a result.

It seemed as though Leliana had fared slightly better than the wretches in Denerim. Her scars were slender and smooth. Someone must have treated them with Elfroot after her torture. Kallian doubted very much that it had been Leliana's captors, and she resolved to ask the bard about it at some point in the future.

She drew her hand back to rest on the bard's stomach. It occurred to her once again that Leliana was much stronger than she could ever hope to be.

Kallian had no idea how anyone could suffer so much and still have such a wonderful outlook on life. Thinking about it sometimes made her ashamed of how poorly she had handled her own issues. Kallian wasn't sure if was faith or determination that allowed Leliana to get over everything, but she wished that she had whatever it was that made Leliana so resilient.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Leliana suddenly inhaled a sharp breath as she awakened. Smiling when Leliana's toned arm curled around her waist, Kallian propped up on one elbow and turned her head to look at the other woman's face. Brilliant blue-eyes peered back at her sleepily.

"'Morning."

"Good morning." Leliana stretched out the arm Kallian had been laying on. "How did you sleep?"

Kallian grinned. "Really good. Sorry that I kinda fell asleep on you. Was my head too heavy?"

Leliana laughed softly and leaned forward to pull Kallian into a languid kiss. Breaking away with an unhurried motion, Leliana motioned for Kallian to lie back down. "Just a tiny bit. But, that's a price that I'm glad to pay if it means waking up in such a pleasant manner."

Pulling the fur blanket up to cover them both, Kallian settled back down with a happy sigh. A lock of red hair brushed against her nose and she took the opportunity to inhale the bard's scent. Leliana smelled like a human, but that didn't bother her very much anymore. Mostly, Leliana just smelled like her floral soap with an underlying scent that was sweet and natural.

When Leliana's hand came up to stroke the back of her neck, Kallian leaned into the touch. Her response sparked a laugh from the bard. "You're like a cat, you know. You make a big show of being aloof and distant, but you turn into a big softie whenever you want attention."

Kallian smiled and adopted an indignant tone. "I am nothing like a cat."

"Oh? But I've heard you purr."

There was a whole heap of suggestion in the bard's tone, but Kallian didn't miss a beat. "Yeah well, you're the one who scratches."

Leliana's hand drifted down to Kallian's back to apologetically trace along the long marks she had made last night. They were still a little tender, but Kallian didn't mind all that much. "Oh my, I do apologize for that. I fear I might have gotten slightly lost in the moment."

"S'okay, I kinda liked that you cut loose. It was actually sorta hot."

"Is that right?" Leliana sounded amused and rather interested. "I shall keep that in mind for the next time."

Kallian couldn't seem to bring herself to stop smiling. Idly tracing abstract patterns on top of Leliana's flat stomach, she raised her head slightly when she heard muffled voices rise up from somewhere in camp. Much as she'd like to remain here all day, she knew that they would have to get up and start moving.

"We probably have to get up."

Leliana sighed and then made a noise of agreement. "The longer we put it off, the harder it will be."

The two of them untangled from each other slowly. Pushing herself free of the blanket, Kallian sought about for her discarded underclothes. She found them underneath Leliana's shirt, and when she turned back she noticed that the bard was watching her.

Leliana had pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts, and the demure gesture only heightened her appeal. Kallian gave her a curious look. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just like seeing you like this."

"Like what?"

"Happy…relaxed," Leliana's smile took on a mischievous edge. "Naked."

Kallian didn't really know what to say to that, so she just shyly smiled as she slipped into her smallclothes and then reached for her pants. Conscious of Leliana's eyes on her, she dressed quickly and bound her hair back with her bandana.

Leliana was still using Kallian's cloak as a pillow, but the bard seemed to realize this at the same time as Kallian. Pulling it free, Leliana leaned forward and fastened it about Kallian's shoulders with a practiced motion. After adjusting it to her satisfaction, Leliana gave Kallian a coy look and pulled her into a kiss. This one was different from the one before it. There was a great deal more passion and just a small hint of possessiveness in Leliana's embrace.

It was enough to make Kallian want to scramble out of her clothes all over again. Clearing her throat once they had broken apart, Kallian managed to keep her composure as she glanced over Leliana's state of undress. "Well, I think I'll go see what the breakfast situation is looking like. You coming?"

"I'll be out in a bit." Leliana gestured at her mussed-up hair with one hand. "I have to take care of a few things in order to look presentable."

Kallian smirked. "And here I was thinking you woke up looking perfect."

"Alas, I am a mere mortal."

Shaking her head in amusement, Kallian crawled to the tents entrance and undid the fastenings. Casting one last look in Leliana's direction, she tugged on her boots and stepped out in the real world.

The weather was beautiful for a change. Taking a moment to stretch out her arms in the warmth of the sunlight, Kallian glanced around in mild surprise. She had thought it would have been later in the day, but it looked as though the sun had just risen a couple of hours ago. Based on the fact that only Alistair and Wynne were up and about, she guessed that the rest of the others were still in their beds.

Strolling over to where Alistair was busy coaxing the fire into a bigger blaze, she waved cheerfully when Wynne looked up at the sound of her footsteps. Though Wynne returned her greeting with a congenial nod, Kallian couldn't help but notice that the mage was eyeing her with a fathomless expression. Wondering if she had forgotten about some spelling lesson or something, Kallian plunked down next to Alistair and peeked hopefully at the cooking pot that was suspended over the flames.

"I don't suppose there's any chance that's done?"

Alistair shrugged his brawny shoulders and jerked his head in Wynne's direction. "You're gonna have to ask her. Wynne's got a whole menu lined up for us."

"I wouldn't say that necessarily. I just thought it might be nice to have a large breakfast considering that we will be able to find fresh supplies in Haven." Wynne turned to Kallian with a small smile. "The pot's full of the last of those russet apples we purchased in Denerim. I'll mash them up once they've cooked a bit and add some cinnamon. Spread that over some oatcakes and I promise you'll be asking for seconds. We can have the rest of the salted ham as well."

The thought made Kallian's mouth water. "Sounds amazing, but how are we going to cook oatcakes?"

"If Alistair manages to make the fire a little larger, I think we might be able to bake them on a flat rock that I found. Think of it as a poor man's skillet."

Alistair yawned loudly and jabbed at the fire with a stick. "Sorry about the wait. I'm running a bit slowly because of last night. I couldn't seem to fall asleep at first, and then I ended up doing two shifts of watch. My head feels all cloudy and stuff."

His words made Kallian's eyes widen. She had forgotten that she was supposed to be on watch last night. Cursing mentally, she winced as she looked over at Alistair. "Shit, sorry about that. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Err…well, I was going to." A bit a color rose up in Alistair's cheeks and he hastily fixed his eyes on the fire. "But then I figured I better just let you sleep. I mean, you take my shifts all the time, and you weren't really in your tent when I went to check."

"Ah, right…" Kallian had forgotten about that for a moment. Twiddling her thumbs in the awkward silence that followed, she tried to think of a graceful way to change topics. Before she could however, Alistair let off a fake cough and flashed her a grin.

"If you want, we could rearrange the watch schedule so that certain people could have the same nights off." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'd be willing to swap around and it might help to facilitate certain things. Like late-night card games or whatever."

It was a sweet gesture, and Kallian felt a small surge of gratitude. Nodding, she smiled and smacked a fist against his upper arm playfully. "Thanks, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure, and don't worry about last night. I used to do all night vigils when I was with the Templars. After you've spent a night standing in a creepy tomb in full plate-armor, a little lost sleep sorta loses its meaning."

Kallian grunted an acknowledgement. "All the same, I'll make it up to you."

Alistair rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile. Kallian knew that he thought her unwillingness to accept favors or help was just a point a pride. There was plenty of truth in that, but what he couldn't understand was that pride meant a great deal when you didn't have anything else. That was one part of Denerim that she didn't think she'd ever leave behind.

She spent the next few minutes helping Alistair with the fire and then moving Wynne's "skillet" into position. After it became clear that Wynne had everything she would need, Kallian melted some snow in the spare pot and used the warm water to wash her face and hands. She'd wait until after they had eaten before cleaning her teeth.

"My word," Wynne's soft exclamation made Kallian look up in the middle of drying off her face. "I don't quite believe it."

At first, Kallian wasn't sure what the mage was referring to, then she caught sight of Oghren and Zevran. Both the elf and the dwarf were looking like they had a long night, but that wasn't surprising in of itself. No, what gave Kallian pause was the fact that Oghren was completely clean shaven. After nearly three days of wearing that ridiculous half-beard, it looked as though he had finally come to his senses.

Alistair traded a look with Kallian before greeting the dwarf with a grin. "Hey, you seem different somehow."

"Yeah, yeah, get it all out of yer system."

"I think you look very nice, Oghren." Wynne smiled in that grandmotherly way of hers. "It gives you a very dignified appearance."

Alistair snorted a laugh. "Definitely, it really brings out your strong chins."

"Oh look, the pike-twirler's got jokes." Oghren fixed Alistair with a malevolent glare and then spat a wad of phlegm into the fire. "Go on, kick a man while he's down. Bad enough that I got a hangover and a face like an elf's backside."

Kallian raised a brow. "What made you decide to finally shave it?"

"A bottle of rot-gut and this damn idiot." Oghren jerked a thumb in Zevran's direction. "He told me human girls like this sort o' thing. I was drunk and figured I had a shot at the mage if I took the plunge."

Wynne screwed up her face. "Dare I ask which mage you are referring to?"

"Trust me _bella_, the answer would bring you no comfort." Zevran chuckled and slapped Oghren on the back. "I can tell you that you all missed quite the ceremony. He insisted that we say a few words, and then he had me bury it in the ground after I had cut it."

Alistair did a very poor job of hiding his smile. "That sounds lovely."

"It was actually very unsettling and bizarre."

Oghren moaned and dragged a hand down his face. "There ain't never been a day as dark as this one. My ancestors must be rollin' in their graves right now."

"Come now, think of it as an opportunity for change." Zevran patted Oghren's shoulder in what might have been genuine sympathy. "Take a moment to look forward. We are about to go on the hunt for a sacred relic of immeasurable value. Besides, how can today be so dark when love is in the air?"

"What in the seven hells are ya' talking about?"

Kallian felt a sense of dread rise up within her when the assassin shot her a mischievous smirk. Pleading at him with her eyes, she shook her head slowly. Zevran just gave her a helpless shrug and turned back to Oghren with a wide smile.

"I think you may have been napping when it happened, but our dear Warden did not retire to her own tent last night." Zevran examined his fingernails with a sly look on his face. "Of course, I'm certain that there is a perfectly innocent explanation for that."

Oghren's eyes widened. All traces of his melancholy vanished as he leaned forward. "Her and the bard? Why the hell didn't ya' wake me?"

Kallian spread her hands in exasperation. "What the fuck? Why would he wake you?"

"Never ya' mind. Now, there's something I gotta' ask ya'. I've been drivin' myself nuts trying to work this out." Oghren faced her with an expression that was as serious as a heart attack. "Alright, when the two of ya' are messin' about…who's the man?"

"…..Wow, just wow."

…

xxXxx

Haven was definitely the most unusual village she had ever seen.

As it was built directly on the mountainside, Haven was practically more vertical than horizontal. Rather than live in someplace sensible, the people here had evidently decided to try their luck on the few available patches of flat ground. This led to the town being composed of small clusters of four or five houses that were separated by long flights of steps that had been carved directly out of the earth. It was almost like Haven was some type of ladder with the people living on each of the rungs.

They had passed through the wooden gates on the lowest level of the city at a little before noon. The sunshine from earlier in the morning had disappeared behind a fluffy shroud of frozen fog that had crept over the mountain in a ponderous curtain. The mist made it difficult for Kallian to see more than a few feet in front of her, and it also brought a thick silence that muffled the world around her.

Not that there was much to muffle. Haven seemed to be deserted.

Kallian inhaled deeply and wrinkled her nose at the queer scent that filled her nostrils. Haven smelled wrong, but she couldn't quite pinpoint the odd scent that was on the wind. Actually, this entire town just rubbed her the wrong way. There was a palpable sense of wrongness here that was both indefinable and unmistakable.

"While 'twas no secret that I did not expect to find any relics here," Morrigan murmured softly from where she stood by Kallian's shoulder. "I did think we would at least find a village. What are we to make of this, I wonder?"

"Dunno, but there's no way this is a good thing."

Alistair hummed an agreement. "It's like something out a bad ghost story. I mean, a bunch of explorers find an empty city in a completely isolated location? I'll bet that the monster that killed everyone is watching us right now."

The hairs stood up on the back of Kallian's neck. Shuddering, she glared at Alistair. "That's not helpful, you know."

"Sorry."

Kallian folded her arms and glanced around irritably. Trying not to think about hidden monsters, she caught Leliana's eye and gave a meaningless shrug. The bard was standing next to Zevran looking every bit as restless as Kallian felt. Leliana smiled at her, but it wasn't exactly comforting.

"This was a pointless endeavor." Sten stared at the nearest deserted house with an angry expression. "We have wasted valuable time. Tell me Wardens, what is your plan now? To keep heading north until it becomes south, and then strike the Archdemon from the rear?"

That sounded suspiciously like sarcasm to Kallian's ears. Exchanging a quick look with Alistair, she smirked at the qunari. "It'll never see that coming."

"Humor. Is that all you are good for?" Sten rounded on her with a suddenness that made Kallian reflexively jerk back. "Grey Wardens are known as champions against the Darkspawn. Yet, I have seen no evidence of that. You simply run in the opposite direction and make light of everything you encounter. Tell me, are you frightened?"

Everyone went quiet all at once. Sten's voice held a low note of challenge that triggered some primitive part of Kallian's psyche. It was clear that Sten was in no mood for jokes, and Kallian raised a pacifying hand. "Calm down. No one is running from anything."

Alistair walked up and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. "Kallian is right, Sten. We agreed to do this because we need Arl Eamon and Redcliffe on our side. The political situation is really delicate right now. We need to do more than fight Darkspawn if we're going to win this."

Sten shook his head. "I have no interest in justifications. We must stop this insanity before it goes any further."

Taking his hand off of Kallian's shoulder, Alistair stepped forward to close the distance that separated him from Sten. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"We must head south. That is the only reasonable course of action."

Kallian's eyes narrowed when she saw Sten's massive hands slowly clench into fists. The look that the qunari was sharing with Alistair was rather charged, and she didn't like the looks of things. While Sten's eyes were focused on Alistair, she slowly began to circle around to one side until she was facing Sten's back.

Just in case.

"I respect your opinion." Alistair gave the barest of nods. "But we will head back south only after I'm certain that there is nothing for us here. We all agreed upon this before we left Redcliffe."

Sten's voice became even more gravelly than usual. "There was no agreement. It was simply a case of the majority dictating the actions of the entirety. I remain entirely unconvinced by your theoretical evaluation of the situation. Can you even provide a concrete reason for our coming here? Some assured benefit that doesn't hinge on vague possibility?"

"You want a reason?" Alistair's voice took on a heated note as he glared up at Sten. "How about this: I'm in command and I say that the reward is worth the risk."

"Then perhaps you should not be in command."

Kallian's muscles tensed at the open challenge. She wanted to look back to see what the others were doing, but she was unwilling to take her eyes off of Sten and Alistair. Sliding her knife clear of its sheath, she kept the weapon lowered at her side. Sten scared the living shit out of her, but he still had tendons, joints, and arteries. If he attacked Alistair, she'd do whatever she could to drop him.

Tense seconds ticked by as Alistair and Sten stared each other down. Just when she thought this was sure to end in blood, a sudden clicking noise made everyone whirl around to face the solemn row of empty houses. Heart beating wildly, Kallian blew out a shaky breath when she saw the familiar shape of her dog padding towards them. The mysterious noise had been the sound of his nails clacking against the cobblestones as he lumbered along.

It was timely distraction, and Kallian subtly sheathed her blade as the dog drew nearer. Craning her head, she saw that Boss was carrying something in his mouth. "Whatcha got there, boy?"

Boss made a chuffing noise and padded over to her with his head lowered. Crouching down onto his haunches when he reached her, the Mabari open his jaws and dropped an small object at her feet. Bending down to pick it up, Kallian abruptly leapt back when she saw what he had brought her.

"Fuck!"

It was a severed hand. A child's severed hand.

Her exclamation made the rest of the party move closer to get a better look at what Boss had brought. Ignoring their mutters of disgust or horror, Kallian mastered her own revulsion and gingerly picked up the severed hand by one of its fingers. The flesh was mottled, and it looked discolored and bloated as she held it at arm's length. Kallian didn't need to smell it to know that it hadn't been attached to somebody for a long time.

"This didn't happen recently." Wynne's soft voice confirmed her suspicions. "Flesh has to decompose for several days before it begins to look like that. Possibly much longer considering how cold it is up here."

Alistair sucked in a breath through his teeth. "There goes any chance of things being normal in Haven. Whatever's going on here, it's no longer an option to just ignore it. We're going to search every inch of this place until we find some answers."

It was actually a neat move on Alistair's part. Not only had he pushed the confrontation with Sten to the side, he had also taken charge. Kallian dropped the severed hand to the ground and then knelt down in front of her dog. Taking his large head between her hands, she held him so that he was looking back at her.

"Ok, you did good, boy. Now, where did this come from?"

Boss let out a low whine and stood up on all fours. Tossing a look at her over his shoulder, the Mabari began to pad off towards the staircase that led to the next highest level. Kallian was never entirely sure how much of what she said got through to the dog, but this time it certainly looked as though he had some idea of what she was asking. Checking to see if the others were following, Kallian started after her dog with one hand on the hilt of her knife.

Haven seemed even creepier thanks to this grisly development. Shivering as a gust of wind cut through her clothing, she peered through the swirling mists warily. The staircase only took them up about 100 feet before it emptied onto a flat clearing with several more houses. While there weren't any bloodthirsty monstrosities in sight, Kallian didn't take her hand away from her weapon.

Her dog stopped in front of the nearest house and took a seat in the snow. Giving her a significant look, the animal woofed loudly and stared intently at the house's door. Kallian patted him on the head once and turned around to face the others. "He says this is it."

"How fortunate we are to have a translator." Morrigan spoke drily as she peered up at the closed shutters that obscured the windows. "Did he happen to say where he found the hand? It might well save us the trouble of knocking."

Alistair stroked his chin as he glanced at the other buildings in the area. "I doubt we need to knock, these houses are every bit as deserted as the ones below."

"That one isn't a house." Zevran commented mildly and pointed out a two-story structure that had been built along the cliff side. "Unless these people were fond of placing large signs that say 'General Store' in front of their homes."

"Not really the point I was trying to make, but good catch." Alistair bit his lip and jerked his head in the direction of the general store. "Tell you what, how about you and Oghren take a look inside the store and see if there are any food we can use. It's going to be a big problem if there's nothing for us to resupply with."

Zevran bobbed his head and clapped Oghren on the shoulder as he started walking away from the group. For his part, Oghren simply hefted his hammer and followed Zevran while muttering something about being used to "fetch and carry".

Alistair ignored this and stepped past Kallian to approach the house that Boss had indicated. Taking hold of the door's handle, he tried to open it without much success. Alistair cursed under his breath and touched the iron lock that was inset into wood. Glancing back at Kallian over his shoulder, he pointed towards it.

"Do you know how to open this?"

"Are you kidding? I worked in Denerim; a place where everyone has three locks and chain. These farmers might as well have left the door open." Kallian studied the lock a little closer and then shrugged. "No point in me picking it though, you could just kick it."

"Kick it?"

"It's rusted to shit and that wood is pretty much rotted. Give it a good kick right below the handle. You might have to do it a few times."

"Before we go kicking down doors, can I ask something?" Leliana lifted a finger and slowly pointed at Boss. "If the door is locked, then how did your dog get in?"

It was a good question as it seemed as though there were no other entrances in sight. After a quick perusal revealed no holes in the walls or broken windows, Kallian turned back to where her dog was sitting. Blinking stupidly, the Mabari stared back at her with the most inscrutable expression she had ever seen on an animal.

"Uh…maybe the hand was outside?"

"Let's go with that, because the alternative is making my brain hurt." Alistair faced the door and gave Kallian an unsure look. "You're sure this will work?"

"Just do it."

Shrugging, Alistair readied himself before launching a kick at the door. The moldy wood shuddered violently, but the door remained firm. Giving them a slightly sheepish look, Alistair kicked the door twice more before the wood gave way with a satisfying crack.

The smell that gusted out of the house made Kallian reflexively gag. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she backed up a few steps in an effort to distance herself from the stench. Beyond the cloying reek of rotting flesh, the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair stepped away from the house with watering eyes. "What is that?"

Morrigan moved forward into the house with her fingers delicately pinching her nose shut. When she spoke, her voice sounded nasally as a result. "My, but it looks as though these townspeople have been busy."

Curiosity getting the better of her, Kallian crossed the threshold into the house and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. At first, it simply looked as though someone had splashed black paint over every available surface. A closer looked revealed that the entire place was covered in dried blood.

The realization gave way to mute horror as she took in the scene before her. Behind her, Alistair and Leliana both let off soft exclamations of horror at the sight of the room. All four of them stood silently for a moment, but then Leliana stepped past Kallian in order to check the backrooms of the house. Shaking herself, Kallian tried to push back the bile that rose up in her mouth as she studied her surroundings. There had to be something in this house that would explain what was going on.

Odd as it may seem, she didn't think that there had been a fight in here. The way the blood covered the room was too uniform and intentional. A struggle would have resulted in sprays or splatters of blood. Here though, it was almost as though the blood had been _poured _onto the walls and floor.

Though Wynne and Sten wisely decided to remain outside, Alistair, Kallian, and Morrigan filtered into the room and tried not to touch any of the surfaces. It was like something out of a nightmare. Kallian couldn't believe the sheer volume of blood in this one room. There had to have been gallons spilled over these walls in order to create the thick black crust that was covering everything. The one thought that was racing through her mind was that there was no way that all of this had come from one person.

Or even ten.

"Oh no," Alistair's voice made her look up from a particularly large bloodstain on one of the tables. "I think I know what this is."

The former Templar was standing in front of what could only be described as an alter. The simple hearth that hung above the house's small fireplace had been converted into something ghastly. Liberally soaked in blood like the rest of the room, the alter was composed of thick red candles and several glass vials. The candles had long since melted down to waxy puddles, and the vials were stained with the blood that they had evidently once held.

Kallian made no move to approach the alter. "What's that?"

"Blood magic." Alistair folded his arms grimly. "Or at least, this was someone's attempt at it."

"Attempt?"

"A sensitive individual can detect archaic power for many days after 'tis employed." Morrigan circled around the alter with an interested expression on her elegant features. "Think of it as a type of scar that arises from interacting with the Fade. If true blood magic was worked here, Alistair and I should have been able to sense it before we even stepped foot in the house."

Kallian frowned at the gore that surrounded them. "So, whoever did this actually failed?"

"More than likely."

"At least this tells us what happened to the villagers." Alistair shook his head and turned away from the alter. "The only question is: where are all the bodies?"

"They're in the back. In a pile." Leliana answered him as she stepped through a doorway that led into the rest of the house. Even in the faint light, Kallian could see that she was looking even paler than usual. "One of the bedrooms is full bodies. Most of them are children."

Kallian could see that Leliana was close to losing it. Reaching out she gently took hold of the other woman's arm. "C'mon let's get some fresh air."

Leliana didn't resist when Kallian led her back outside. She looked shaky, so Kallian steered her over to where Wynne and Sten were standing in the middle of the clearing. The mage raised her head at their approach and gave them a sympathetic look.

"Is it bad in there?"

"Terrible." Leliana rubbed her upper arms as if she were cold. "This place is evil."

Sten rumbled an agreement. "It is in the air. This village will bring us nothing but trouble. We should leave."

"No, we are not done here." Kallian gave Sten a look and nodded at the sword she had helped him recover. "I know you've got your misgivings, but Alistair is doing what he thinks best. I'm not asking you to like it, just to go along with it for a few more days. You owe me that much."

Sten regarded her in silence for a few moments before inclining his head. "Very well, I will trust in your wisdom. I pray that my trust is not misplaced, _kadan_."

"Thanks, big guy."

The qunari stared at her for a few moments before moving off to study the house for himself. Watching him go, Kallian started when Leliana spoke softly at her shoulder. "What does _kadan _mean?"

"I never asked," Kallian tried to smile at her. "Probably 'dishonorable thief' or something."

"No, I don't think that it does. He seems to respect you. I was worried that he was going to fight Alistair back there." Leliana took a deep breath and shook her head. "Although, Sten may be right in this instance. Something tells me that we will find nothing good in this town.. What I saw in that house is like nothing I've ever imagined. They were children, Kallian."

Kallian nodded lamely and hugged Leliana with one arm. "We'll kill whoever, or whatever did this."

"That won't make it any better."

She didn't have a good response to that, so she just stood there and hoped she was being supportive. In her peripheral vision, she saw Wynne watching them closely. When she saw that Kallian had noticed her regard, the mage turned away to stare off at nothing.

A minute or so later, Zevran and Oghren returned from their trip to the general store. Aside from the fact that Oghren was now wearing a lumpy fur hat, neither of them looked like they had found anything unpleasant in their own exploration. Coming to a stop next to Kallian, they both made a face when the stench of the house reached them.

Zevran waved a hand in front of his face. "What did you all find?"

"Houseful of blood and bodies." Kallian flicked a sidelong glance at him. "You?"

The assassin raised his eyebrows. "Nothing so glamorous, but I think you will be pleased nonetheless. The store has three fully-stocked larders with everything from preserves to smoked meats. These people know the business when it comes to preparing for winter."

"Not only that, but they got proper gear in there." Oghren pointed at his ridiculous hat for emphasis. "Lotsa furs and plenty of oilcloths. The type of thing that comes in handy when yer walkin' through snow all soddin' day."

Kallian grinned. She needed warm clothes more than anything else in the world. "That's amazing. Good news for a change."

"Yer tellin' me. My fruits have damn near frozen off in these pants."

Zevran clucked his tongue and gave Kallian a longsuffering look. "In the interest of steering the conversation away from Oghren's fruits, may I ask what the plan is now? Are we to continue searching this town in the hopes of stumbling upon something worse?"

"Dunno, let's wait until Alistair and Morrigan get back. They think that someone tried to use blood magic."

"Let us hope that is not the case."

Wynne shook her head. "It isn't. If blood magic was used here, I would know. However, there are other reasons to do these types of things."

Before Kallian could ask what those reasons may be, she was interrupted when her dog butted her hip with his head. It wasn't an aggressive bump, but there was still enough force to cause both Kallian and Leliana to stumble. Righting herself with as much dignity as possible, Kallian glared down at Boss.

"What's up with you?"

The Mabari barked and trotted off to the south. As soon as he realized that she wasn't following him, Boss stopped and barked at her once more. Shrugging at the others, Kallian started after him with a sigh. "I'll go see what he wants. Maybe he's found a demon this time."

Leliana cocked her head. "Should I go with you?"

"No need, I'll stay in sight. There's no way I'm wandering off in the middle of Monsterville."

Boss led her across the clearing and over to the edge of the cliff before coming to an abrupt halt. Aside from providing a splendid view of the mist, she couldn't see anything particularly important about this part of Haven. Glancing around curiously for a moment, she turned to her dog and spread her hands.

"What am I suppose to be getting from this?"

He gave her a look that she swore was patronizing. With a small woof, he tilted his head to one side and quirked an ear as if to listen for something. Eyeing him skeptically, Kallian shrugged and focused on straining her ears for whatever it was she was supposed to be hearing

At first, all she could hear was the gentle whisper of the breeze as it swept over the mountainside. Leliana and the others were having a conversation, but the words were muffled and indistinct at this distance. After a few moments of vainly trying to make out something else, she was prepared to give up. Then, a lull in the wind brought something to her attention.

The sound was faint, but there was no mistaking the fact that it was made by people. She wasn't sure, but it sounded like multiple voices all singing some melody. It was coming from above her, and Kallian looked up in an attempt to pierce the curtain of mist. That proved to be impossible, but she was certain that the sound was coming from the next highest level of Haven.

She kept listening until the wind picked up once again. Bending down quickly, she ruffled Boss's fur and planted a kiss on top of the dog's head. "You are so getting a treat tonight."

Boss barked happily.

Kallian sprinted back towards the others only to find that Alistair, Morrigan, and Sten had rejoined the rest of the group. They all tensed up when they saw her running towards them, so Kallian had to hurriedly wave them down before they started drawing weapons.

Alistair nodded at her. "Good, now that we're all here, let's go pick up what we need at the store. We could all use heavier clothing if we are going to be tromping around the mountain."

"That's going to have to wait for now." Kallian pointed in the general direction of where she had heard the sound come from. "Boss came through again, there are still people in this hellhole. I could hear singing or something on the wind. It's coming from the next level up."

Immediately, Alistair's face hardened into a stern mask. Nodding grimly, he slung his shield off his shoulders and loosened his sword. "Right, everyone be ready. Make sure the frost hasn't sealed your swords in their scabbards. I don't think that there's much of a chance that we'll find anyone friendly in this town. Be ready to strike first."

Kallian felt a buzz of anticipation race down her spine as she checked her short sword. Kallian was hardly surprised when it slid from the sheath as easily as if had been oiled. She hadn't sharpened the blade since she had received it in Orzammar, and yet it was still keener than any razor she had seen. The enchanted blade was a miraculous thing, but she still checked to make sure all of her knives were in order. Even after all of her training with Zevran, she was still more comfortable with a brace of daggers than a sword.

Alistair took the lead once everyone had their weapons drawn and in order. Leliana fell in on Kallian's left with an arrow already fitted to her bowstring. Her beautiful face was darkened by a frown, and Kallian had a feeling that Leliana's mind was back in that blood-soaked house.

She pitied whoever they found.

They ascended the staircase quickly only to find themselves on what looked to be the highest level of Haven. Several houses were off to their right, but everyone's attention was immediately drawn to the lone structure that stood directly in front of them. Tall for a one-story building, it was made of roughly cut stone and topped by a steeple. The windows were colorful displays of stained glass that seemed inordinately cheerful when compared to the rest of what they had found in Haven.

Leliana said what most of them had been thinking. "They're in the Chantry?"

"Seems likely to me." Alistair didn't break stride as he scanned their surroundings. "Everyone be ready when we go in. If this is a group of apostates, I'll nullify all the magic in the area. Morrigan and Wynne: stay back so I don't affect you by accident. For the rest of you, watch each other's backs and keep our mages covered."

Everyone murmured their agreements as they drew closer to the Chantry. By now, the sound that Kallian had heard was clearly audible. What she had thought to be singing was actually some form of chanting in a language that Kallian didn't recognize. It was guttural and erratic, but the words were clearly being repeated.

Alistair paused at the doorway and shot them a quick look to make sure they were ready. Even though it was hardly the time, Kallian found herself to be a little impressed by how much he had changed in the last few months. Alistair no longer seemed unsure of himself, and Kallian realized that she actually felt confident in following him.

Without further delay, Alistair thrust the doors open to reveal a truly bizarre scene. Fanning out as they entered the Chantry, the party drew up short as they beheld what seemed to be a religious service.

In the very middle of the large hall, ten grown men and women were sitting in a circle with their hands clasped together. Walking around them, a man with a long beard and even longer robes was swinging a brazier full of some pungent incense. The pews had all been torn up, and it looked as though the wood had been used to kindle the large fire that roared in the fireplace. The only furniture left in the entire place was a stone podium set atop a raised dais on the opposite side of the room.

At the sudden appearance of Kallian and the rest, the chanting faltered and died off. The man in the robes came around to the front of the circle of men and women as if to shield them from the party. Raising his arms, the man spoke up in a hysteric and feverous tone.

"Who dares enter this sacred place?"

Alistair slowly moved forward. "A Chantry is refuge to all. Surely we are as welcome as you."

"This is a temple to that absent god no longer!" The man gave one of those laughs that only a completely mad person could produce. "We serve a new master now. His power is absolute and we dedicate ourselves to His majesty. Have you come as converts or crusaders?"

"Neither, we are Grey Wardens." Alistair kept his face rigidly composed. "Although I would like to know what is going on in this village."

"Our business is our own!"

Alistair shook his head. "Not when it involves murdering children."

"We only did what was necessary. There will be no place for children in the world to come. Better to have them serve as offerings than die without purpose." The lunatic's voice rose in pitch until it was a shrill wail. "Their deaths were all part of the bigger picture. Surely even you can see that."

Leliana made a disgusted sound. "You're insane."

"No! We are the enlightened few! It is the outside world the remains stagnant and demented. Behold all that we have accomplished by accepting Him!"

The man spread his arms out theatrically to punctuate his words. Kallian couldn't see anything worth bragging about in this dump. Kicking a scrap of wood with her toe, she studied the faces of the men and women who were seated in the circle. They all looked pale and dirty, but their eyes gleamed with a zealous hunger that she found profoundly disturbing. Based on their gaunt appearance, she'd guess it had been a least a week since any of them had eaten anything.

Kallian folded her arms. "What are we supposed to be seeing? A ruined Chantry full of murderous nutbags?"

"Silence harlot! You understand nothing, and your ignorance offends my—" The man trailed off as his feverish eyes studied Kallian face. Slowly, he lowered his arms to the side with a dumbfounded expression on his face. His voice took on a quality that sounded uncomfortably like wonder. "You…I can see Him inside you."

She raised a brow. "Say what now?"

"I can see Him staring out from you. Like a beacon on the shoreline." The human outstretched a hand as if he could touch her from across the room. "This is a miracle."

Alistair cleared his throat. "Not that this isn't interesting and increasingly creepy, but we are not here to discuss miracles. We're looking for a man named Brother Ferdinand Genitivi. We know that men from Haven kidnapped him several weeks ago. If you surrender and release him, no one will have to die today."

The man ignored him. Lifting one bony finger he beckoned to Kallian with a smile. "You must come with us."

"Not a fucking chance."

"You must."

"That's very convincing." Kallian was uncomfortably aware of the fact that the entire group of villagers was staring at her now. "Alistair, can we kill them or something?"

Alistair nodded slowly as he watched the leader of the zealots. Sliding his sword free with a rasp of oiled metal on leather, he hefted the weapon meaningfully. "This has gone on long enough. You will answer for the crimes you've committed in one fashion or another. This is your last chance to surrender peacefully."

"Wait, wait, wait!" The leader held up his hands as a maniacal grin spread across his face. "Let us make a bargain. I will give you the Chantry brother if you give us the elf in his stead. You will not miss her, and He will doubtlessly reward you for playing a part in His ascension."

"She stays with us." Alistair advanced forward and lifted his shield. "And I've heard enough out of you."

The man's face twitched as his gaze darted between Kallian and Alistair. Whirling around to face the circle of men and women, he gestured at the party. "Kill them, but spare the harbinger. We need her to facilitate the rise of our master!"

In spite of the fact that they were emaciated and armed with nothing more threatening than a belt knife, the villagers lurched to their feet with a collective howl of rage. Without any real organization, the rabid group of humans rushed towards the party all at once.

What followed could not truly be called a fight. It was more of a slaughter.

As soon as the villagers started moving, Morrigan cast a spell that tore two of them completely in half. The others didn't even seem to register their comrade's grisly deaths. Instead, they just kept running forward without slowing down.

The forerunners were immediately cut down by Alistair and Sten. These farmers were untrained, and it was akin to watching a toddler attack a prizefighter. Kallian readied her blade, but she needn't have bothered. The one woman who got close enough to actually threaten her died with one with Leliana's arrows in her throat. As quickly as it had begun, the fight was over.

"No one's hurt, right?" Alistair glanced around the party before turning his attention back to man in the robes. Stepping over the corpse of one of the villagers, he pointed his bloody sword in the man's direction. "It's time you told us where you are keeping Brother Genitivi."

The lunatic didn't seem distressed by the way things had turned out. "You believe you have won? There's nothing you can do to harm Him."

Alistair frowned as he moved closer. "Maybe, but there's plenty we could do to harm you. Someone has to answer for what's been done here. I won't ask again, where is Genitivi?"

Rather than respond, the man retreated to keep the distance between him and Alistair constant. Reaching into the folds of his robe, he drew out a wicked looking dagger that was still spotted by old blood. At the sight of the weapon, Kallian moved forward and slid a throwing dagger from her belt. Alistair probably didn't need the help, but it never hurt to be sure.

She heard the rest of the party filtering in behind her. The man was outnumbered and surrounded, but he still didn't show any sign of fear or nervousness. Holding up an hand as if to ward off their approach, he grinned at Alistair. "I will be rewarded."

"Drop the knife."

"He is going to reward me. He told me so." The man pointed at Kallian with a trembling finger. "My only regret is that I won't live long enough to see her transformation."

Before anyone could react, he took his dagger in both hands and rammed it into his neck. Jerking the weapon to one side, he tore out his own throat with a smile on his face. In the bare seconds before he collapsed to the ground, it looked as though he tried to say one final thing, but all that came out was a wet gurgle.

"Maker's mercy," Alistair sighed heavily and turned away from the dying man. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Bunch of crazies doin' crazy shit." Oghren nudged Kallian with his elbow and frowned at her. "They seemed to like ya' though. Got somethin' to tell us, Sweetness?"

Kallian resisted the childish urge to shove him back. "I don't know what the fuck he was talking about."

"The man was clearly delusional. We can't expect to find sense in anything he said." Wynne stepped in between the two of them and looked around speculatively. "What baffles me is that an entire town seems to have joined him in madness. I've never heard of anything quite like this."

Zevran bent down over the man's corpse and made a noise of consideration. Reaching into the front of the man's shirt, Zevran pulled out a bloody necklace and tugged it free. When he held it up for her inspection, Kallian could see that it was a heavy disc of bronze that had been inscribed with a complicated pattern. Turning it over in her hands, Kallian pursed her lips.

"You think it means something?"

"Aside from the fact that he had terrible taste in accessories?" Zevran shrugged carelessly. "I can't say."

"Still, it's really all we have to go on."

Leliana walked past the two of them and stared up at a defaced depiction of Andraste. She still looked uncharacteristically angry, and Kallian debated about whether or not she should try to say something. Eventually deciding that it couldn't hurt, she passed the necklace back to Zevran and walked over to where Leliana was standing. "Hey, you alright?"

"No, I'm not." Leliana gave Kallian a look that was almost hostile. "How could this have been allowed to happen?"

Kallian shrugged. "I don't know."

"What did that man mean when he was speaking to you? Did you understand any of it?"

Glancing back at the robed man's corpse, Kallian folded her arms across her chest. "Dunno, he was crazy. Nothing he said made sense."

Leliana studied her for a moment before sighing and running a hand through her hair. "I just want to understand what could make ordinary people do something like this. There has to be reason."

"Sometimes, people just go wrong."

The bard frowned slightly. "I agree, but not like this. What happened here is something beyond simple madness."

Before Kallian could reply, Alistair called out to her from across the Chantry. "Hey Kallian...does this look familiar to you?"

He was pointing to the back wall of the Chantry, and Kallian had to circle around to see what he was indicating. At first, it seemed like he was pointing to the stone podium, but then her eyes settled on the bizarre decoration that lay beyond the dais.

It had been crudely bolted into the wall by several large nails. Composed of a medley of scrap metal that had been hammered and bent into shape, the decoration resembled a man in only the most general sense. Its limbs were thin and spindly, and its fingers stretched out far longer than they should. Even though its face was nothing more than ball of wire and metal plates, she could see that it was meant to be smiling. Whoever had built this had made it so the figure's arms were outstretched as if to envelope the viewer in an embrace.

Kallian's heart skipped a beat as recognition flared up within her.

"What is it?" Leliana had come up behind her without making a sound. "Some type of idol?"

Alistair tapped his chin with one finger. "I guess you could call it that. The thing is, Keeper Zathrian had a statue just like this one in his tent. He said that it was meant to represent some type of demon from the Fade. I think he called it Formoire."

"Formorie." Kallian corrected him automatically. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of the thing in front of her.

Morrigan made a incredulous noise from where she was standing beside Alistair. "As in the Silent Watcher? I have not heard anyone mention that name since I was but a child."

"You know about it?" Kallian rounded on Morrigan in interest. She had assumed it was an elven legend, but it wouldn't surprise her to learn that Morrigan knew about it. Really, she should have asked about the entire thing long before this. "Zathrian said that he was some type of evil spirit that helped to destroy the elven kingdom a long time ago."

"Oh yes, and he also steals into the rooms of naughty children and drinks their blood. When he's not doing either of those things, he's coupling with witches in order to produce hoards of half-dragons." Morrigan laughed derisively and gave the statue a dismissive wave. "He is a bogeyman. A tale that the Chasind tell around their fires. If he is what these people were worshipping then 'tis no wonder their 'rituals' failed so spectacularly."

Leliana cleared her throat. "Perhaps, but that raises a question about the Dalish. Are they also worshipping this thing?"

"I don't think that's why Zathrian had it." Kallian spoke slowly as she thought back to the way Zathrian had acted the night he had told her about all of this. "He sounded more like he hated it. Maybe he was keeping it around to remind him of something."

Alistair nodded in agreement. "I think you're right. He wasn't crazy, and I doubt he was worshipping demons."

Kallian stared up at the statue for a few more seconds before turning away. She forced herself not to leap to any conclusions. After all, Morrigan had just confirmed what Leliana had told her. This "Formorie" thing was just a story that had been blown out of proportion. More than likely, someone had just heard an old legend and took it as fact.

She hated that it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

A loud thump made the entire group turn towards the western apse of the Chantry's hall. Oghren was standing in front of bookcase with his hands on his hips. Lifting a leg, he gave the bookcase a solid kick that made the wooden frame shudder.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Everything alright, Oghren?"

"I think there's somethin' behind this book-holder." Oghren glanced back at them and waved Sten over. "C'mere and give me hand with this."

Kallian trailed after Sten curiously. She was glad to have something to take her mind off of the statue that loomed on the far wall. Up close, she couldn't see anything particularly odd about the bookcase. Turning to Oghren, she gestured towards it with a shrug. "What makes you think there something behind it?"

"Ya' kidding? Topsiders hide all their stuff behind book-holders. Besides, it's the only one in the entire place. Seems suspicious to me."

Kallian conceded that it was a little unusual considering that everything else looked to have been chopped up and burned. Steeping back, she watched as Sten and Oghren shifted the bookcase to one side. To her surprise, it actually was concealing something. A narrow wooden door that couldn't have been more than four-feet in height was recessed into the wall.

Oghren gave her a triumphant grin. "Told ya', topsiders have no imagination."

Rolling her eyes, Kallian stepped forward and tried the doorknob to find that it was unlocked. After taking a moment to palm a dagger, she pushed it open to reveal a pitch-black void. Turning back, she called out over her shoulder. "Hey, someone bring some light."

Morrigan tapped the butt of her staff against the ground and a brilliant light burst out from the light at its crown. Holding it outstretched, Morrigan moved past Kallian and into the room beyond. Not wanting to let the witch walk into a trap by herself, Kallian followed closely behind. Thankfully, her caution wasn't necessary.

She had no idea what the room had been before this town went tits up, but it was now a prison. Following the curve of the apse, the room was cramped half-circle that instantly invoked claustrophobia. Like the Chantry's main hall, the room was completely bereft of both furniture and decoration. The room's sole inhabitant stirred weakly as the light from Morrigan's staff washed over him.

The man looked like he was standing with one foot in the grave. His skin had a yellowish cast to it, and the flesh hung loosely over his bones. Balding with a course bread, the human looked like he was on the wrong side of forty. It was immediately clear to Kallian that he was starving. Raising one hand to shield his eyes from the light, the man recoiled from them with a cry of distress. Kallian gently pushed Morrigan's staff away so that it wasn't blinding him before crouching down on her heels.

"We're not going to hurt you. My name is Kallian, I'm a Grey Warden."

The prisoner slowly lowered his hand and stared at her warily. Propping himself up against the wall, he opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a coughing fit. Waving a hand as he composed himself, the man spoke up in a weak whisper.

"Please...water."

Kallian pulled her canteen from her belt and uncorked it. Passing it to him, she watched as he began to greedily gulp down mouthfuls. She held out a hand to stop him when it became clear that he wouldn't stop. "Slow down, you'll only get sick."

"Of course, thank you." The man coughed a few times before staring up at her with bloodshot eyes. "Thank you so much."

Alistair's head poked through the small doorway. "Is everything alright in here?"

"We've found someone." Kallian didn't bother twisting around to look at him. "He's not doing too well. Do we have anything he can eat?"

"Sure, we'll find something. Can you bring him out here?"

The prisoner lifted one hand to display a iron manacle wrapped around his wrist. It was attached to a heavy chain that was linked to an iron nail that had been driven into the stone wall. "The mayor has the key, but I think he keeps it somewhere else."

Morrigan stepped forward. "No matter, I can remove it."

With a careless gesture, the witch reached over and touched the iron manacle with one finger. Murmuring a few words of magic, she stroked her finger down the metal surface slowly. Where she touched, the metal seemed to dissolve into a fine powder. Within seconds, the manacle had entirely disappeared into a lump of metallic dust.

The man rubbed his wrist where the cuff had chafed the skin raw. "You are a mage? How fascinating!"

"Yeah, she's a peach." Kallian held out a hand to help the man up. "C'mon let's go out into the hall and get you some help."

"I don't think I can stand.." He gestured down at his lower body. 'My leg..."

Glancing down, Kallian noticed for the first time that the man's leg was horrible twisted in a way that was definitely not normal. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Alright, we can do this. Morrigan, help me out here?"

Once Morrigan had set her staff against the wall, the two of them were able to support the man between them. Though he cried out as his leg was jostled, they managed to get him up and moving toward the narrow doorway. It was a confusing jumble to actually get back into the main hall, but the three of them managed with some help from Alistair.

There were no chairs, but they got him sitting down on the edge of the dais. The man winced as he gingerly stretched out his wounded limb and squinted against the relative brightness of the main hall. Still holding Kallian's water skin, he took another drink before slowly looking over the entire party. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you've come. I thought I was going to die."

Alistair smiled gently. "We're just glad we've found someone sane. My name is Alistair, you've already met Kallian and Morrigan."

"Yes, the young lady said you were Grey Wardens." He drew himself up a little. "Forgive me, my name is Brother Ferdinand Genitivi. I am eternally in your debt."

Oghren laughed aloud and pointed at Zevran. "Ha! I found the stupid blighter! Take that elf!"

Alistair flushed slightly and shot Oghren an irritated glare. "You'll have to forgive them, brother. It's been a trying day for us all, and we've been looking for you for some time."

"Is that so? I thought the only people who knew where I had gone were these lunatics."

"About that," Alistair gestured towards the corpses of the insane villagers. "Do you have any notion of what going on in this town. We found a house full of corpses and evidence of blood magic. The people here attacked us, and we had to kill them."

"From what I can tell, the people in this town formed a cult of sorts. They were worshipping a false god." Genitivi pointed towards the statue of Formorie. "For the first few days I was here, they would bring me out to listen to their sermons. They've been trying to summon their god for months now."

Wynne tilted her head "Why did they kidnap you in the first place?"

"It's no secret that I have been studying the Sacred Ashes of Andraste for years. I was about to present research that suggested that the Prophet was interred in these Mountains." Genitivi's mouth twisted unhappily. "They didn't want me to draw attention to what they were doing here. So, they sent men to attack me during the night. I'm sure they would have killed me, but they were hoping I might provide them information on how to get past the sanctuary's defenses."

Kallian frowned. "Err...sanctuary?"

"That is what I chosen to call the temple that houses the Sacred Ashes. The cultists have thus far been unable to get past the guardian that resides there."

Alistair's face lit up. "Then the Ashes are here?"

"Oh yes, they certainly are." Genitivi smiled enthusiastically. "My captors would not take me to the sanctuary, but the temple is on the mountain's peak. These cultists found a doorway that leads into an ancient passage that predates any written record. It's the single most important archeological find in history. The followers of Andraste must have repurposed them to conceal her resting place."

"Can you take us there?"

"I can, but we'll need the key." Genitivi waved a hand impatiently. "The mayor carried it around his neck. It's a disk of bronze that must be inserted into the doorway in order to open it."

Zevran lifted the necklace he had looted off of the robed man. "Would this be it?"

"Yes! We can go at once!"

Alistair held up a pacifying hand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, brother. You need to eat something and have Wynne take a look at that leg. There's no point in hurrying if you're just going to collapse on the mountain. Besides, we need to resupply before we go anywhere. This will have to wait just a while longer."

"Oh, of course. I forgot myself. I would deeply appreciate some food."

Alistair nodded. "We'll get you something and then go from there. Wynne, is there anything you can do about his injuries?"

Kallian stepped back to give Wynne some room to work. Moving away from the dais, she scratched the back of her head as she mentally went over everything that had happened today. It had started off nice and pleasant, but then things had taken a turn. Right now, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the Sacred Ashes actually existed. She had never held much hope of them being real.

Leliana touched her arm. "Do you want to go collect some of the supplies that Zevran and Oghren found? I feel like I'd rather be doing something than just waiting around."

"Sure, let's do that."

Kallian shook off her troubled thoughts and fell in beside Leliana as the bard led the way to the Chantry's door. She would wait until they were out of Haven to sort through everything that had happened. The bodies and the cultists were bad enough, but the statue had her rattled in way that made her feel all out of sorts. What was worse was that she didn't know how to justify that discontent. Even if she tried to talk to Leliana about it, she knew it would just sound like she had been spooked by some ghost stories. Leliana might try to console her, but Kallian doubted that the bard would take her seriously.

She shivered as they stepped outside. Those furs that Oghren had mentioned sounded really good right about now. This weather was brutal, and she was cold.

...

xxXxx

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Hey everybody, sorry for the delay in updating. I was super sick last week and it made writing very difficult. Hopefully the fact that this chapter was long makes up for it.

I just drove 1,000 miles yesterday, and I have to set about getting ready for another year at college. I don't expect it to delay the next chapther, but that's always possible. I've got some big plans for Haven, and the next chapter will be interesting.

Some of the reviews people have been leaving are simply amazing. Thanks so much for the support you guys, it really makes my day when someone wants to dicuss or criticize an aspect of the the story.

Till next time!


	33. Last Rites

A/N: Skipping ahead to the part of the Sacred Ashes quest I actually wanted to write. Hope it's not terribly confusing.

Chapter 33-Last Rites

-On Top of the Mountain-

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xxXxx

...

"So...this is it?"

Kallian folded her arms across her chest as she peered up at the massive stone structure. In spite of being built on the top of a mountain where the wind howled and tore at the surrounding rocks, the building was looking pretty damn good. Several of the buttresses on the right side had collapsed, but the thing was still very impressive.

"I guess so, how many mountain temples can there be?" Alistair cast a quick look about the open plain as if to check for one they had missed. The peak of the mountain was almost like a mesa. Wide open and flat, it stretched out around them for a good three hundred-yards in any given direction. On the far side from where they now stood, the vast stone temple jutted upwards as though it were the mountain's crown.

It had taken just under five hours to navigate through the ancients ruins that connected Haven to the peak. After deliberating with Brother Genitivi, the party had elected to spend the night in the deserted town before actually making the trip. Kallian was glad that they had; it was cold enough up here in the daytime. The icy wind would probably be unbearable once the sun had fallen.

She hunched her shoulders against a particularly frigid blast of wind. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go do this."

Leliana stepped up to stand beside her. "Maybe we should proceed carefully. Genitivi did mention that there was a guardian of some sort."

"All he said was that those loonies had trouble gettin' past a guardian. For all we know, it could just be a big door or somethin' such." Oghren hefted his war hammer over one shoulder and waved his free hand carelessly. "Besides, what in the three hells is going to attack us up here? Ain't nothin' but ice and rock as far as I can see."

Alistair didn't seem so sure. "There could be more of the cultists lying in wait."

"So? That's about as threatenin' as a nug with a head cold. If there's more of that lot, I'll introduce 'em to a good friend of mine." Oghren chuckled darkly and patted the shaft of his hammer in emphasis.

Though Kallian didn't say as much, she thought that Oghren had a point. The cultists they had run into on the way through the mountain's ruins had been no tougher than the ones who had attacked them at Haven. Half of them had either starved or frozen to death long before Kallian and the others had come across them. She wasn't much frightened by the prospect of running into more of them.

All the same, it never hurt to be careful. Tossing Alistair a nod, she started off in the direction of the temple. "Let's just keep an eye out. We'll be fine if we stick together."

With the others at her heels, Kallian led the way across the mostly empty plain. The terrain was uneven, so Kallian took extra care not to lose her footing on the icy rocks. Off to her right, the crumbling remains of what looked to have once been a watch tower stood like a stump of a felled tree. Not for the first time since leaving Haven, Kallian tried to understand the people who had gone to the trouble of building all of this only to let it fade into history. She wondered if it had been meant to serve some greater purpose.

Leliana fell in step beside her and smiled up at the temple they were approaching. "This is magnificent."

"Sure, if temples in hard-to-reach places are your thing."

"You aren't even the slightest bit excited by the prospect of what we might find here?" Leliana gave Kallian an exasperated look. The wind was tossing her red hair every which way, and Leliana was doing her best to keep it out of her eyes. "There is a chance we might find the remains of the Prophet herself . Doesn't that strike you as just a little extraordinary?"

Kallian shrugged. "You have to remember, Andraste is just a woman to me. I don't think there was anything extraordinary about her beyond the fact that she was responsible for a rebellion."

"Fair enough, but just ignore what she means to the Chantry for a moment. In terms of historical impact, Andraste is perhaps the most important woman who has ever lived." Leliana gestured at the temple with one hand. "Now, we are about to walk into her undisturbed tomb. There's no telling what type of things we might find here."

Kallian brightened up as she realized something. "Oh yeah, there could be treasure! People would pay anything for some relic that came from the Prophet."

Leliana gave her a very long look. "You are suggesting that we loot Andraste's grave?"

"Uhh..." Kallian had a feeling that she was now walking onto thin ice in a metaphoric sense as well as a literal one. "...no?"

The bard raised her eyebrows at Kallian. "It sounded like you were."

Kallian adopted her most innocent expression. "I think you've mistaken my casual observation as something more. I can't even imagine the type of person who would be greedy and disrespectful enough to do something like grave-robbery."

"Mmmhmm."

Leliana smiled at Kallian in a knowing fashion before turning her attention back to the tomb in question. They were only a few dozen yards away from its front entrance, and Kallian found herself looking around for something that resembled a door. It seemed as though the facade was one seamless wall. The stone was weathered and dark grey in color, but there no sign of an entrance or a window of any kind.

Wynne gave the building a pensive look as the party came to a halt in front of it. "Well, this was unexpected."

"You think this is the guardian?" Alistair nudged the wall with his boot. "I mean, it's not quite what I was expecting, but it does seem to be effective at keeping people out."

"I'm not sure. Perhaps the entrance is on a different side?"

"I don't see how, it's kinda built into the mountain. Maybe it was never meant to be opened."

Morrigan raised her staff and tapped it lightly onto the surface of the wall. After biting off a guttural syllable that Kallian assumed was some type of spell, the witch withdrew her staff and stood back. At the point where her staff had touched the wall, slender veins of silver light spread out like water running downhill. After a few seconds of this, the light faded entirely.

"That's pretty neat," Alistair flashed Morrigan a mildly impressed look. "What did it do?"

Morrigan glared at the wall. "''Twas supposed to reveal any hidden passage. However, 'twould appear that there is nothing to reveal."

"Oh."

The group exchanged a series of uncomfortable looks as the situation sunk in. Wordlessly, everyone began to fan out to search for something they had missed. Studying a speck of wall that looked interesting, Kallian grimaced when it turned out to nothing. She felt her heart sink at the very prospect of failing after everything they had gone through to get here. The long hike through the mountains had left her feeling utterly drained, and she would commit murder for a plate of warm food right now.

Her only consolation was that she wasn't too cold. The party had appropriated the furs they had found in Haven's general store just before leaving the accursed place. Though she had been forced to piece together a mishmash of different garments, Kallian had miraculously found an ensemble that fit her well. Paired with the heavy oilcloth she had found, the furs repelled the worst of the elements.

Even so, she didn't really want to stay out here and stare at a stone wall for a second longer than was absolutely necessary. Part of her wished they had taken Brother Genitivi along with them. He was a bit scatterbrained, but it had seemed like he had known quite a bit about the Ashes and everything they related to. Of course, it had been too dangerous to drag a half-starved and injured man up a mountain. The last time they had seen him, the brother had been poking around the entrance of the ruins with an expression of child-like wonder.

Sighing heavily, Kallian slumped against the wall of the temple and leaned her head back against it. Heedless of the snow beneath her, Kallian slid down to sit and rest. A second after she had done so, the wall began to move.

Kallian's eyes popped open and she scrambled to her feet with a startled exclamation. Her cry brought the others over just as the changes started to begin. All at once, the seamless wall suddenly flared up with lines that burned with a vibrant purple glow. Slowly, the lines coalesced into the shape of a vast, arched doorway that towered above them like a newly-lit beacon. At the top of the archway, words flared into life with an intensity that made Kallian shield her eyes.

Then, it was all over.

The purple light died off to leave a dark grey imprint in the shape of the door. Squinting up at the words above the door, Kallian tried to sound them out. "Let's see: 'Bring Com...Com...Compation?'"

"Compassion." Leliana smiled softly at her before motioning up at the inscription. "It reads: _'Bring Compassion, and See It Rewarded. Bring Injustice, and See It Righted. Bring Malice, and See It Thwarted.'_"

Kallian shrugged her shoulders."Ah...that's kinda dramatic."

Alistair reached out a gingerly pushed at the "door" that had been burned into the rock wall. To everyone's evident surprise, the stone slid inwards with a perfectly smooth motion. Upon closer inspection, Kallian noticed that the bizarre entrance didn't even seem to have hinges. Beyond the threshold, all she could see was a dark room.

"Huh," Alistair tapped his lips with a finger and glanced at Morrigan. "Is this like a delayed reaction to whatever you did?"

"I do not believe so. My spell would have produced a more immediate result."

They both turned towards Kallian, and she held up her hands to forestall the obvious question. "Hey, all I did was lean against it."

"What's it matter how it happened?" Oghren shoved his way past Kallian and stuck his head through the opening. "No point in standin' around with our gawkin' like a bunch of fools. Let's get in there and find a dead broad."

Alistair cast his eyes up at the sky. "Would it kill you to show a little respect, Oghren?"

"Why? She ain't my soddin' prophet."

"Classy," Alistair sighed and waved them forward. "Wynne and Morrigan, can you guys give us some light?"

The two mages both illuminated their staves as the party edged through the doorway to the mountain temple. Thanks to the magical light, it became immediately clear that they had entered into a gigantic antechamber. Vast pillars supported the domed roof overhead, and the walls glittered as though they were embedded with countless diamonds. Momentarily dazzled by the startling effect, it took Kallian a moment to realize that the walls were interlaced with veins of some type of crystal.

"By the Stone..." Oghren's voice was uncharacteristically subdued when he spoke. "This is lyrium...it's all lyrium."

Kallian frowned. She had never actually seen lyrium in its raw state. "Are you sure?"

"Sure as I am of anythin', Sweetness. I ain't ever seen so much of it in one place. This here is a blighted fortune."

Morrigan raised her staff to cast more light onto the nearest wall. "'Tis a dangerous fortune as well. This much lyrium could conceivably weaken the barrier between this world and the Fade."

"Morrigan is correct." Wynne's voice held an authoritative note of caution. "Strange things can occur when this much magical energy is concentrated in a single location. Considering how long this temple has been standing here, we should be prepared for literally anything. There's no telling what effect the lyrium has had on this place."

Kallian mulled that over in her head before shooting Wynne an apprehensive look. "Does that mean this place could be full of demons?"

"There are no demons in this sacred hall, elf maid." A soft voice answered her from somewhere in the darkness of the antechamber. "Save for the ones you have brought here."

The rasp of steel on leather sounded out as the party drew weapons in a hurried motion. Heart hammering like a drum, Kallian held her short sword at the ready as she peered into the fathomless darkness of the hall. The light from the mages staves lit up everything in a twenty-yard radius, but beyond that she could see nothing. Nervously adjusting her grip on the swords hilt, she moved to put her back to the wall.

"Please, there is no need for that. None of you are in any danger."

Alistair made no move to lower his shield as he called out in response. "Who are you? Show yourself."

"As you like."

With a faint clap of displaced air, a man abruptly appeared before them. Tall and dressed in a set of ornate armor, the human man had a wholesome set of features that were framed by long strands of red hair. It took Kallian a few beats to recognize his more extraordinary qualities. For one thing, his entire body was blurred and faintly incandescent. Every minor movement he made produced a momentary afterimage that lingered for less than second before vanishing.

Even more disconcerting was the fact that he was floating several inches off the ground.

Kallian eyes widened as she took in the full picture. "What the shit?"

The point of her sword lowered a few inches before she remembered herself and brought it back up to bear. Beside her, Sten had lowered himself into a comparatively-low crouch with his sword extended behind him. A rough growl was emanating from the giant's throat as he glared at the apparition in front of them. Placing a restraining hand on his shoulder, Kallian swallowed thickly as she mastered her own surprise.

"What is it?" Leliana's spoke up in a hushed whisper. "Some type of spirit or ghost?"

"No, Sister Leliana. I am neither." The mysterious figure smiled kindly at Leliana. "Think of me as a memory that has lingered long after its time. I am but a simple thought that was once conceived, and now preserved."

Leliana looked taken aback. "I am not a sister, I never took my vows."

Still smiling, the apparition shook his head in mild reproof. "You are a sister and a bard. A patriot and a traitor. A minstrel who is still searching for her own story. Some labels are bestowed, and others earned. In either case, there is no denying what you are."

The hairs on the back of Kallian's neck stood on end. There was no way in hell this thing could know that much about Leliana. For her part, the bard was just staring openmouthed at the ghostly figure in front of them. Though she still had an arrow fitted onto her bowstring, the weapon hung slack from her hands.

Alistair slowly lowered his own weapons. "Right...what exactly is going on here? Who are you?"

"I have no name. I am the sentinel."

"So you're the guardian?" Alistair motioned for the party to lower their weapons. Kallian did so very reluctantly. "We weren't sure that you existed."

"Who is to say that I do?" The sentinel laughed softly and floated closer to them. "You can think of me as a guardian if you wish; although, this temple needs no guarding. Those on less noble business than your own would find nothing but misfortunate here. That is, if I were to allow them to come in."

Kallian glanced at the doorway they had entered through. "So that was you?"

"Indeed."

"You say that you know our business here," Wynne gave the apparition a shrewd look. "Does that mean that you will not stop us?"

The sentinel turned to her. "As I said, your cause is a noble one. I will allow you to approach and claim a measure of the Sacred Ashes so long as you are willing to prove your worthiness."

Zevran chuckled aloud. "We wouldn't want it to be easy, would we?"

"No, we would not." The sentinel nodded gravely in response.

Kallian didn't like the sound of this at all. In all the stories she had heard, heroes proved their worthiness by doing something extremely dangerous. She had come here to steal some ashes, not wrestle a troll or wander through a maze of spiky traps. If that was what the sprit had in mind, then Kallian would be perfectly content with remaining unworthy.

Alistair seemed to have the same opinion as she. Folding his arms, he spoke up in a wary tone of voice. "Prove ourselves how?"

"By undergoing the trials. Any or all of you may attempt them, but only those who pass through the trials may approach the ashes."

Alistair exchanged a look with Kallian. "What precisely do you want us to do?"

"The trials are meant to help you confront certain aspects of yourself. I cannot say what you will encounter as it varies with each individual." He raised one glowing hand and pointed towards a doorway set into a nearby stretch of wall. Though Kallian couldn't be sure, she had a nagging sense that it hadn't been there a moment before. "Go into that chamber if you wish to undertake the trials. I will await you inside."

Kallian squinted suspiciously at the doorway. "Are we going to need weapons?"

"Of a sort."

Without another the word, the sentinel simply faded from view. Shifting uneasily, Kallian cast a look around the group to try to gauge everyone's thoughts. Leliana looked pensive, and Sten was wearing a frown that spoke volumes about his thoughts on the matter. After a moment or two of awkward silence, Alistair sighed and squared his shoulders.

"Alright, obviously no one has to do this if they don't want to. I'm going in no matter what."

Leliana immediately nodded. "I would also like to go."

"Hrr...count me out. I've got no need to see a pile of dust." Oghren waved a hand at the lyrium-laced walls. "Besides, I wanna take a look at this place. First time I ever seen so much lyrium outside of Orzammar."

Sten's eyes locked onto Alistair's. "I will go no further. No good can come from dabbling with magic."

"I think I may remain behind as well." Zevran smiled vaguely at them all. "Call me a coward if you must, but I have no desire to confront any aspect of myself. There's not much chance that I would find anything good."

Kallian chewed her lower lip as she looked the three of them over. The temptation to remain here with them was much stronger than she would have readily admitted. Magic made her more than a little uncomfortable, and the sentinel's cryptic statements had left her completely on edge. The Kallian who had followed Duncan out of Denerim would already be halfway down the mountain by this point. Now though, Kallian knew she had to go. Leliana was giving her a small, hopeful smile which Kallian was utterly powerless to resist.

"I'm in."

Alistair nodded at her before turning towards Morrigan and Wynne. "How about you two?"

"I would never pass up the opportunity to see if the Ashes of Andraste actually exist." Wynne chuckled dryly and moved to stand beside Alistair. "This is the type of thing scholars dream about."

Morrigan hesitated for a long time before eventually joining them. "I would see this supposed miracle for myself."

The five of them grouped together in preparation to depart. Kallian took a quick moment to pat her dog on the head as she commanded him to stay with Sten. The animal gave a low whine, but he seemed to understand as he slunk off to sit next to the qunari. Ignoring the pang of guilt that tore at her, Kallian turned back towards the others and tried to mentally prepare herself for what was to come.

Leliana cleared her throat after a few beats. "Shall we go?"

"Might as well," Kallian glanced over at Zevran and Oghren. "You guys sure you don't want to come along?"

Zevran nodded once. "I'm content to rest here for a spell. Although, could you perhaps leave one of the staves here for us? I think it will be rather dark in here once you all have gone off on your pilgrimage."

At his words, the walls in the antechamber suddenly lit up as each vein of lyrium began glowing with a soft blue light. It was more than enough to illuminate the large hall, and Kallian stared around in amazement. It was beautiful, but it freaked her out that someone or something was listening to their conversation. Tossing Zevran a shrug, Kallian turned back to Alistair and waved him on. "Let's do this before I smarten up and change my mind."

After a few short goodbyes had been exchanged, the five of them crossed the antechamber to reach the doorway that the sentinel had indicated. Kallian tensed up in preparation as they moved through the doorway, but her caution proved unnecessary. The room they entered looked no different than the one they had just left aside from the fact that it was considerably smaller. Floating in the dead center of this new space, the sentinel turned to regard them with a placid smile.

"Good, we can begin."

The sentinel waved its hand in the direction of the far wall. Immediately, that side of the room flared up with purple light as five doorways suddenly carved themselves out of the surrounding stone. Stepping a bit closer, Kallian noted that each door was branded with one of their names. This brought her feelings of unease directly to the front of her mind.

"How the hell do you know who we are?" She rounded on the sentinel unhappily. Being this far out of her comfort zone was making her angry. "And how did you know all that stuff about Leliana?"

The sentinel's voice was as calm as ever when he turned to her. "The Maker knows everything about you, Kallian Tabris. Even that which you would wish to hide."

"Rubbish. Do not allow yourself to be fooled by this spirit." Morrigan rolled her eyes theatrically and smirked at Kallian. "He knows our names because we know them. Our thoughts and memories are merely being reflected back at us. All of it is derived from the amount of lyrium in these walls. It has leant this place some strange qualities. Still, do no mistake a parlor trick for omniscience."

Morrigan sounded so perfectly confident that Kallian calmed down a little. "So he's just reading our minds?"

"In a fashion. 'Tis not so dissimilar to the Fade. This temple is a canvas, and we are painting ourselves upon it."

The sentinel tilted his head in Morrigan's direction. "You have an answer for everything. I wonder though, how much do you know about yourself?"

"Spare me the cryptic rhetoric. I have no interest in your ramblings."

"As you wish." The sentinel held out a hand to indicate the five doorways. "If there are no more questions, then we may begin."

Kallian wasn't entirely sure if she was ready, but the others more or less decided for her by moving towards their respective doors. Taking a deep breath as she walked over to the door marked "Kallian", she mentally berated herself for volunteering. No good ever came from volunteering.

She paused with her hand halfway to the handle. Looking over at Leliana, she gave the bard a shaky smile. "So, good luck?"

Leliana returned the smile. "I'll see you on the other side."

Kallian just hoped there was another side. After watching Leliana disappear through her door, Kallian shook off her indecision and jerked her own door open swiftly. A bright light greeted her through the open passage. With a sigh of resignation, she moved forward before she could convince herself that it was a bad idea.

There was a slight rush of air as she stepped through the doorway, and then Kallian was somewhere else entirely.

…

xxXxx

She had walked into summer.

The transition was almost seamless. After just a few short steps, she found herself standing in warm sunlight. It took her less than a second to recognize her surroundings. Somehow, the familiar sights and smells of the Alienage's central pavilion had been perfectly recreated. The massive Vhenadahl tree stretched up before her, and Kallian could even make out the faint etchings that children had carved into its bark.

Looking back over her shoulder, Kallian wasn't all that surprised to find that the doorway had vanished behind her. Dazed by the sudden appearance of her home, Kallian could only stare around in mute wonder. There was absolutely no way that this was real, so she decided that she must be hallucinating.

A stale breeze tousled its way through her hair and she realized that her bandanna was gone. Her furs and oilcloth had likewise vanished. Instead, she was wearing a sleeveless tunic and pants that ended just below her knees. She recognized the outfit; it was practically all she had worn last year.

Amazement eventually overcame her confusion. Wandering around, Kallian was baffled by how authentic this all felt. The sun was warm on her bare skin, and she could hear the faint rustle of squirrels as they scurried about the branches of the Vhenadahl. For a crazy moment, she wondered if this actually was a hallucination.

The only thing missing was the people. Never in her entire life had she seen the pavilion completely deserted. She thought about calling out, but that seemed out of place somehow. Casting one last fond look at the Vhenadahl, Kallian turned and began walking towards her father's house. It seemed as good a place as any to go.

Plus, even though she reminded herself that this wasn't real, she hoped that she might find her father there.

She drew up short when the small hut came into view. At first, she didn't quite understand what she was seeing. The house was still standing where is always had, but there was something very wrong in regards to its appearance.

To Kallian, it looked as though winter had confined itself to single area. Her father's house was absolutely covered in ice and snow. In spite of the warm air and bright sunlight, the frozen house showed no sign of thawing. The one window on the left side of the door was completely frosted over, and thin icicles hung from the iron doorknob.

It may have just been Kallian's imagination, but it almost seemed like the sunlight didn't quite reach the house. Shivering as the wind blew some of the chill her way, Kallian stepped forward cautiously. This didn't look to be a good sign, but she had to check to see if her father was inside. Pausing some five feet from the door, Kallian instinctively reached for a knife as she worked up the courage to go closer.

Someone called out from behind her. "Stay away from there, Kallian. It's not the time for that."

Kallian froze in place at sound of the achingly familiar voice. Breath catching in her throat, she slowly turned around to face the new arrival.

The woman stood at least six-inches taller than Kallian. There was a certain severity to her elegant features that made her seem like the animated statue of an unappeased goddess. Her long, black hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that appeared functionary more than anything else. Slender like a sapling tree, she was strikingly beautiful in spite of the fact that she was well into her forties.

"…Mom?"

Kallian stammered the word out after what felt like an eternity. All coherent thought had abandoned her at the sight of her mother. Adaia looked just as fierce and commanding as ever, and seeing her now made Kallian's chest constrict painfully. She was too stunned to even move when her mother nodded at the house behind her.

"Come along. We have much to discuss and this is not the place for it."

With that, Adaia set off with the same long stride that she had always used. Utterly thrown by her mother's appearance and sudden order, it took Kallian several seconds to start after her. Desperate questions raced through her mind as she sprinted to catch up with her mother.

"Wait! Mom!" Kallian caught hold of her mother's arm and pulled them both to a stop. "Could you hold on a minute? What's going on? How are you here?"

Adaia fixed her with the same disapproving frown that Kallian vividly remembered from her childhood. Brusquely shaking Kallian's hand off her arm, Adaia inclined her head at the Vhenadahl. "Save your questions. We'll talk over there. Hurry up, Kallian."

Kallian tried to ignore the pang of hurt she felt at her mother's dismissal. Chastised, she followed her mother silently. This didn't feel like a hallucination anymore. Her mother sounded and acted just like she always had. It just felt too real to be fake.

At length, they stopped in front of the Vhenadahl and Adaia turned to Kallian with an abrupt motion. They were still a good six feet apart, but her mother made no sign of closing the distance between them. Pursing her lips, Adaia looked Kallian over for a few long seconds before frowning. "Well, I suppose I expected you to be taller."

Kallian didn't know how to respond to that. A small part of her wondered how that could be the first real thing her mother said to her after five years. Still, that disbelief paled in comparison to the larger question of how exactly this was happening at all.

"Mom? Can you tell me what's happening?" Kallian was feeling slightly lightheaded as she gestured back in the direction of her father's house. "I mean, you're here and the house is—."

Adaia cut her off. "Not an issue. The thing that is inside there is not your father. Leave it be."

"What thing? What are you talking about?"

"Something that is better left alone." Her mother's voice was flat and grim. "As for why I am here, I wished to speak with my daughter. Is that not reason enough?"

Shrugging helplessly, Kallian tried to sort through her shock and confusion as best that she could. She had always dreamed of being able to talk to her mother one last time, but now she couldn't seem to think of anything to say. Feeling awkward and uncertain, she toyed with her hands as cast her eyes down. "I guess so...it's uh, really good to see you."

"Yes, I'm pleased to see you're still in one piece." Adaia's mouth thinned into a severe line. "In spite of your best efforts."

Kallian blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Killing an Arl's son? Joining the Grey Wardens?" Her mother gave a disgusted shake of her head. "I taught you that remaining unnoticed was the best way to survive. What were you thinking?"

Indignation rose up in Kallian. She had never asked for any of this. "I didn't have a choice!"

"Of course you did. You were the one who chose to interfere to help that idiot cousin of yours. You chose to involve yourself where you didn't belong."

Kallian frowned. "So what, I should have just let her get dragged off by a bunch of shems? Is that what you would have done?"

"Yes. It's exactly what I would have done." Adaia waved a hand to indicate the Alienage around them. "Did you notice anyone else standing up to stop them? Of course not, because most elves are smart enough to know that would only lead to even worse trouble. It may be cowardly, but it's better to be a breathing craven than a dead hero. That's a lesson you should have learned years ago."

With an effort of will, Kallian managed to avoid shouting an instinctive argument. Gritting her teeth, she glared down at her feet. "I was just doing what I thought was right."

"I know, Kallian. That's the problem." With a small sigh, her mother walked a step closer so that the distance between them wasn't as extreme. "You've always allowed your sentiments to cloud your judgment. Whether it's anger, grief, or even love that you're feeling, an emotional response is dangerous thing in our world. You've always been slightly foolish in regards to such things."

The words were very familiar; Kallian had heard them countless times during her childhood. The urge to deny them was almost overpowering. Kallian wanted to defend herself, but her mother had never had much time for excuses or justifications. In addition, she had to grudgingly admit that there was plenty of truth to her mother's condemnation. Shrugging childishly, she tried to blow it off. "Alright, that was just one mistake. I'm living with it."

"You've made more than one. Worse yet, you're still making most of them. Take that human woman you've been giving yourself to."

Kallian bristled. "What does Leliana have to do with anything?"

"It's just another example of how you don't think things through." Her mother clucked her tongue impatiently. "You may be happy now, but how long will that last? How long will it be before she decides that bedding an elf has lost its novelty? A shemlen who is used to the finer things won't settle for a second-class citizen. She'll move on soon enough."

"Is that what happened with you?" Kallian heard her voice getting heated before she even realized that she was angry. "Did Duncan get tired of you? Or was it the other way around?"

Adaia's eyes narrowed into dangerous points. "Don't speak of things you barely understand. What happened between me and the Gray Warden was a mistake. It may have taken me some time to recognize it as such, but I made the necessary choices once I realized where it would lead. I would hope that you would be smart enough to do the same."

Kallian squared her shoulders defiantly as if to weather a storm. "It's not the same thing. Leliana is different."

"Don't be such a child." Her mother made an exasperated sound and turned away from Kallian. Facing the Vhenadahl, she drew a long breath and let it out slowly. "I see that I failed in many regards. Teaching you how to hold a sword wasn't nearly enough. You needed to learn lessons that your father was too soft to impart. It was my responsibility to protect you from yourself."

"Maybe, but then you died." Kallian's voice sounded bitter even to her own ears. "Dad wasn't ready for that. I had to learn how to take care of myself."

"Really now?" With a scoff, her mother turned back to face her. "Is that what you call getting yourself raped and nearly executed?"

The words were a physical blow. Flinching in a visceral reaction, Kallian felt like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. The biting contempt in her mother's voice hurt more than she could properly vocalize. Utterly taken aback, she stared up at her mother in stunned silence. "I...n-never..."

"Four drunken shems?" Adaia shook her head. "You couldn't manage that?"

Kallian's eyes grew hot and she fought the tears that bit at the corners of her vision. She had to choke her words out around the knot that had formed in her throat. "I didn't know what to do."

"I trained you better than that. You should have done more to stop it."

It was an effort for Kallian not to cry. Hearing this from her mother's mouth tore at her insides in a way that made her want to curl forward to protect herself. She clenched her fists into tight balls at her sides and bit at her lip in an effort to ground herself. For a moment, everything else was eclipsed by the burning shame that roared in her mind.

Slowly however, some part of her realized that this wasn't right. Her mother had never been one to coddle, but she had never once been this outright cruel. Even when Kallian had done something outrageously stupid, Adaia had never once said anything intended to hurt her in this fashion.

That thought was what carried Kallian out of her inner turmoil. Frowning sharply, she shook her head as if that would help to clear it. Her mother had died for her five years ago. Whatever this ghost claimed to be, it was nothing more than a pitiful shadow of the woman Kallian had loved. Turning so that she could no longer see her mother's face, Kallian spat out a furious denial.

"Shut up...my mother would never blame me for that."

Silence greeted her words. In spite of the temptation, Kallian forced herself not to look back at the woman behind her. Enough silent seconds went by that she convinced herself that the illusion had disappeared. As a result, she almost jumped out of her skin when a warm hand settled on her shoulder to gently turn her around.

The accusation and sterile disdain was now absent from her mother's face. In its place, a crooked little smile had appeared to soften her features considerably. Shifting her hands to clasp Kallian's arms, her mother spoke up in a soothing tone. "You're right Kallian, I would never do that. So why is it that you're still blaming yourself?"

Kallian was baffled by the sudden change. Rearing her head back slightly, she frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. Perhaps you've never said as much, but you believe it." Her mother's smile became sad. "You think you should have fought those men harder. You believe that this human woman of yours deserves better. You even think your opinion doesn't matter because you're an elf. Kallian, can't you see how unjust you're being?"

"It's not unjust if it's true."

Her mother sighed softly. "How is it that you're strong enough to tell me that I'm wrong, and yet you can't even take a moment to look inwards? You must know that you can't spend the rest of your life punishing yourself."

"I...it's not that easy."

A confused jumble of emotions flickered through Kallian's mind in an overwhelming blur. She wanted to deny and accept her mother's words all at once. Reflexively, she opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when no words formed on her tongue. As if sensing the fact that Kallian wasn't ready to respond, Adaia leaned forward and hesitantly brought her arms up to embrace Kallian.

She smelled like Kallian remembered. The moment was so overwhelmingly familiar that Kallian forgot about the surreal impossibility of the situation. Sagging slightly, she returned the hug with a desperate intensity.

"I'm so proud of you." Her mother's voice was husky and barely a whisper. "Of who you are, and of what you're doing. You have to know that."

The words tore away the last of Kallian's resolve. She didn't even bother wiping at the lone tear that spilled down from her lashes. Shutting her eyes tightly to forestall any further crying, she nodded for no real reason and swallowed thickly. The hug seemed to last for hours, but eventually her mother pulled away and held Kallian at arm's length.

"I won't lie to you. The world is only growing darker. If you're going to face what comes next, then you will need to put the past behind."

Kallian shook her head. "I've tried. I don't know how to do that."

"The daughter I raised was impulsive, stubborn, and yes, a little foolish." Adaia smiled affectionately. "But she was also confident, and clever, and full of life. I know you're still that girl, Kallian. However much you've strayed, you'll find your way back one way or the other."

Raising her head, Kallian met her mother's gaze. "You sound so sure."

"I am."

"How can you be?" Kallian let out a breath. "I'm don't feel like myself most days. Let's be honest, I'm not the type of person who ends up in the Gray Wardens."

"You're also not the type of woman to marry a man and have a litter of kids." Her mother chuckled in her rough way before taking Kallian's hands in her own. "Yet, it sounds like you were ready to accept that fate for a time. I'll admit that I never intended this life for you, but that's part of living. What's more, you've managed well enough so far."

Kallian cracked a grin. "Barely."

"It's enough."

They fell silent for a moment. Something was still bothering Kallian, so she decided to just attack it head on. "I know you won't agree, but Leliana is good for me."

"She's pretty enough, and I suppose she's been kind." Her mother said the words grudgingly. "Just...be careful, Kallian. However much they might look like us, shemlen minds work differently from ours. Pursue her if it makes you happy, but don't ever forget what I've taught you. Only one person can always be relied upon, and that's yourself."

"I know, thanks mom." Kallian fiddled with her hands. "I think you'd like her if you had the chance to talk with her."

"Anything is possible I suppose."

The two of them shared a small smile before a loud creak made them both start in surprise. Some twenty yards away, the door of one of the many houses was slowly opening outwards to reveal a faint light coming from within. Watching it for a moment, Adaia turned back to Kallian and gave her a regretful look. "That's for you, I'm afraid. Our time is up."

"No!" Kallian grabbed her mother's hand and spoke swiftly. She hadn't known that there would be a time limit. "I have other things I have to ask you! Am I really going crazy? Is there a curse in our blood?"

Her mother looked abashed. "That's a conversation I should have had with you in life. More than anything, I wish we could have it now. All I can say is that you will have answers very soon. Just not from me."

"But-"

"There isn't time." Adaia gave her a pained look. "I want us to say goodbye properly; like we should have been able to all those years ago."

Kallian bit her lip to keep another objection from tumbling out. Slowly nodding, she took a breath and stared up at her mother. "I love you, mom."

"And I'll always love you, Kallian." Her mother blinked a few times before she leaned forward to plant a kiss on Kallian's brow. "No matter what. Be strong, these next weeks will be the hardest of your life."

They stared at each other for a long minute before Adaia eventually pulled her hands frees of Kallian's hold. Stepping to one side so that Kallian had a clear path to the door, her mother looked as though she was fighting tears of her own. With a small jerk of her hand, she indicated that Kallian needed to get moving.

Kallian took a step and then paused. Turing towards her mother, she worked her jaw a few times and then nodded. "Goodbye."

Her mother's face strained as she tried to maintain composure. Nodding wordlessly, she flashed a weak smile at Kallian and waved her on. After a few last lingering moments of hesitation, Kallian started walking towards the doorway. More than anything, she wanted to turn back and say one final farewell. The only reason she didn't was that she was afraid she'd lose it if she actually saw her mother cry.

And even though she never turned back, walking through that door was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

...

xxXxx

The first thing she noticed upon entering reality was that she was back in her heavy furs. Staggering slightly at their sudden reappearance, she glanced about tiredly to find that she was standing in the mountain temple once more. This room looked like the one she had originally left, and Kallian wondered if she had actually gone anywhere at all. She thought for a moment that she was alone, but then she noticed Leliana.

The bard was sitting against one of the large pillars with her legs hugged against her chest. Her eyes looked red and puffy as though she had been crying. Starting towards her out of concern, Kallian smiled shakily when Leliana lifted her head. Slumping down beside her, Kallian took one of Leliana's hands in her own and squeezed it tightly. Leliana's only response was to lower her head down to rest on Kallian's shoulder.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Kallian eventually spoke up in a low murmur. "You okay?"

"No, I'm really not." Leliana blew out a long breath. "I wasn't ready for that."

"Same."

"Did you speak with someone?"

"My mother. You?"

"I believe…I believe I spoke to Marjolaine."

"Do you think it was real?"

"I do not know. It certainly felt real enough. She said all the things Marjolaine would have said."

"Yeah…"

Kallian let the word trail off into a whisper. She felt raw and used up inside. There might be a time to talk about this in more detail, but nothing in the world could make her do that now. Dull thoughts and half-formed uncertainties lingered at the edges of her mind as she stared off into space. Leliana had given voice to the one concern that Kallian kept coming back to. As much as she wanted to dismiss what had happened as a mere hallucination, everything about her mother had seemed so authentic.

If it had been nothing more than an illusion, then Kallian considered it be a thing of incredible cruelty. She now felt the loss of her mother as profoundly as she had when she had been a young girl. Having the chance to say goodbye had meant a great deal. She didn't even want to consider that it all had been a trick.

Several minutes passed by in silence. Both of them looked up when a door appeared on the wall in front of them to admit Morrigan into their room. The witch looked faintly irritated, and she cast them two of them a disapproving frown as she stalked over.

"That was a waste of time."

In spite of herself, Kallian smirked a little. Somehow, she wasn't surprised that Morrigan had not been impressed. "What did you see?"

"My mother." Morrigan gave a dismissive wave. "Or what they would have me think was my mother. I shall allow that the illusion was most convincing until it opened its mouth."

"What do you mean?"

The witch scoffed. "She claimed that she cared for me, and that she hoped I found some happiness in my life. Anyone who had met my mother would know that she had never once said such a thing."

"Morrigan," Leliana sounded as tired as Kallian felt. "Perhaps that was the point."

"What is that intended to mean?"

Before Leliana could respond, another doorway appeared and Alistair stepped into the room. In direction contradiction to the rest of them, he looked positively happy as he made his way over to them. Smiling at Morrigan, he cast a look down at Leliana and Kallian.

"Has anyone seen Wynne?"

Kallian shook her head. "She's probably still in the trials."

"Ah, I guess that makes sense." His smile faded slightly as he met Kallian's eyes. "Umm…I learned something in there. It's not urgent, but it concerns the two of us. Once we get out of this place, I think we need to have a talk."

She couldn't even find it in her to be curious. "Sure."

He nodded once and leaned a shoulder against the same pillar Leliana and Kallian were using. Aside from Morrigan's obvious impatience, each of them looked to be lost in their own thoughts. If they had all experienced anything close to what Kallian had gone through, she couldn't exactly blame them.

Wynne's appearance was rather anticlimactic. The elderly mage simply walked out of her door with a perfectly serene expression on her face. She inclined her head at the rest of the group and moved unhurriedly to join them. Alistair greeted her, and she acknowledged him by inclined her head.

Kallian glanced between them. "Does this mean we are done?"

"Only with the trials, Kallian Tabris," The sentinel's voice sounded out a few seconds before he appeared in front of them. "There is a still a great deal left for you to do once you have left these walls. Most of that however, is for days to come."

Leliana lifted her head from Kallian's shoulder, and the two of them got to their feet. As one, the group reformed and stood facing the floating spirit. Kallian wanted to ask if they could see these damn ashes already, but she had a feeling that the sentiment would be received poorly. Instead, she quietly watched as the sentinel drifted closer to them.

"These trials were meant to teach you something about yourself." The sentinel addressed them in a grave tone. "Whether or not you take that lesson to heart is your own choice. I have done all that I am required to do. If you still endeavor to claim a pinch of the Sacred Ashes, I will allow you to do so."

Alistair nodded eagerly. "Please, we would be honored."

With a short nod, the sentinel lifted his hand and indicated a point somewhere behind them. Pivoting, Kallian noticed that the all the doorways except one had vanished. It didn't take much effort to guess where it would lead, and she fell in behind Alistair as he led the way.

The chamber they entered into was refreshingly different from all the others they had encountered in this place. Lit torches lined the high walls of the rectangular space. A vast, bronze statue of a woman holding a sword dominated entirety of the far wall. How it had remained untarnished throughout the years was a complete mystery.

At the center of the room, a staircase erupted from the floor and led up to a pedestal made from white marble. At the top of the pedestal, a golden goblet rested on a raised stand. Though Kallian had never been a believer, she found herself feeling slightly reverent as she stared up at the impressive sight.

The sentinel appeared at her shoulder and gestured up at the pedestal. "Please, pay your respects one at a time. Take only a pinch, and leave the rest undisturbed."

Wynne drew a small pouch from within her robes. "If no one else objects, I'll go first and gather what we need for Arl Eamon."

"Sure," Alistair didn't take his eyes off of the ashes. "We'll wait here."

Kallian watched as Wynne tottered off towards the pedestal. She personally had no idea what she was going to do when she went up there, but she figured that she might as well go anyway. There weren't many people who could say they saw the ashes of Andraste, and Kallian had always been a fan of bragging rights.

She jumped a little when the sentinel suddenly appeared before her with something in his hands. After blinking in surprise for a moment, she glanced down and saw that the spirit was holding a thick, leather-bound book. Extending it towards her, the sentinel inclined his head.

"This is for you, Kallian Tabris."

Kallian took it from him out of reflex. "Uh, thanks. What is it?"

"One of those misguided souls who came before you had this on his person. He has no need of it in death, and I suspect it will provide you with some valuable information. It primarily concerns the entity that the elves have labeled 'Formorie'."

Her eyes widened as she processed the meaning behind the spirit's words. Hastily opening the book to a random page, she scanned the page in the hopes of encountering some sudden revelation. Sadly, that wasn't quite the case.

She'd be the first to admit that her reading level was still rather low, but Kallian was having trouble recognizing _anything_ on the page in front of her. Some of the letters she saw didn't even look like the ones Wynne an Leliana had been teaching her. Frowning in confusion, she held it out for Leliana. "Am I crazy, or is this nonsense?"

Leliana peered down at the text for a moment with her brow furrowed. Finally, she lifted her eyes from the page and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I've never even seen this language before."

"Oh, that's because it's Old Fereldan." Alistair had come over and was reading over Kallian's shoulder. "It's what we were all speaking before the Tevinter Empire showed up and started giving everyone a hard time. I had to learn some of it in the Chantry so I could read some of the old histories."

Kallian turned to him in excitement. "So you can translate this?"

"Err…well, not really. I wasn't exactly the best history student." He ducked his head sheepishly. "Although, I'll bet anything Wynne knows all about this."

"You think?"

"Sure, it's not even as complicated as learning another language. Most of the words sound a lot like the ones we use when you actually say them out loud. Of course, everyone back then was talking in a weird way. A bit like Morrigan does."

Morrigan frowned over at him. "I do not speak in a 'weird' way."

"Oh yeah? 'Tis that so?"

"That is not even the proper way to—"

"More fighting?" Wynne interjected as she made her way back to the group. She gave Alistair and Morrigan an incredulous look. "What was it this time? Did one of you breathe too loudly?"

Kallian offered her the book. "Can you read this?"

"Hmm? What is it?" The mage plucked the book from Kallian's fingers with interest. She opened it carefully and let out a little exclamation. "My word, wherever did you get this?"

"The sentinel."

"Indeed? Well, it's a text I have never encountered before. Considering I've read most everything written in Old Fereldan, that's saying quite a bit."

A wave of relief shot through Kallian. "So, you can read it?"

"What's that?" Wynne gave Kallian a distracted look before glancing back down at the page. "Oh yes, I can. If you wouldn't mind, might I have a chance to look this over?"

"Go for it, I need help understanding it."

Wynne smiled. "It may take me a while. Really though, this book is in marvelous condition for its age. Most of the texts I've gone over have been burned, torn, and even covered in blood. This really is extremely exciting."

"Right."

Personally, Kallian thought reading a very old text sounded like the exact opposite of exciting. Even so, she desperately wanted to know what that book might say about her condition. It had been disappointing not to receive an answer from her mother, and this certainly seemed like it would be helpful.

At some point in the conversation, Morrigan and Alistair had left to take their respective turns at the altar. Kallian had missed Alistair's trip, but Morrigan was currently circling around the ashes while muttering under her breath. If Kallian had to guess, the witch was probably trying to magically test them somehow. Smirking in amusement, Kallian watched as Morrigan gave up with a huff.

Leliana traded a look with Kallian before inclining her head towards the ashes. It was a clear invitation, but Kallian shook her head and motioned for Leliana to go ahead of her. The bard needed no further encouragement, and she set off for the pedestal before Morrigan had even returned to the group. Immediately upon reaching the altar that held the ashes, Leliana collapsed onto her knees and bowed her head in prayer. It seemed like a private moment, and Kallian found herself averting her eyes out of embarrassment. Leliana took the longest time out of all of them, but she eventually rose to her feet and descended the stairs of the pedestal.

That meant it was Kallian's turn. Nodding at Leliana as they passed by one another, she tried not to think about how weird this was as she slowly climbed the narrow staircase. It ended rather abruptly at the edge of the altar, and she peered over the rim of the golden stand to see a fine mound of white powder. There was no radiant light or heavenly choirs to be seen, just a pile of dust that had once been a person.

She quirked her lips. "Neat."

Kallian thought it would look silly if she turned around right after going up, so she glanced about in an effort to stall a little. Her gaze eventually settled on the face of the bronze statue that towered overhead. She wondered if Andraste had ever felt like she did. If the fabled prophet had ever wondered if she could actually do the things she was expected to. Kallian wondered if the prophet had ever felt doubt.

Probably not, but that's why she had a religion and Kallian didn't.

Shrugging after a moment, she turned on her heel and walked back down the stairs without any real hurry. It hadn't been a life-altering moment of clarity, but then she hadn't expected it to be.

The sentinel bowed his head as she approached the group and pointed towards another magic doorway. "I hope you all have left richer than you entered. That path will take you back to your companions."

Everyone hesitated for a brief moment before Alistair politely thanked the sentinel. Without any further fanfare, the party gathered up and set off to return to the entrance hall. Kallian was about to follow, but impulse made her pause next to the ghostly silhouette of the sentinel. Biting her lip, she turned to him. "Can I ask a question?"

"Please do."

"Was that...real?" She swallowed and cast her eyes to the ground. "I mean, was that actually my mom?"

The sentinel didn't reply at first. He just watched her with that same serene smile he always seemed to wearing. After a few moments of regarding her, he inclined his head a bare fraction of an inch. "In all the ways that matter."

He vanished immediately after that. Though Kallian was a bit frustrated by his cryptic response, she had been half-anticipating it. All the same, she felt a little bit better as she readjusted her furs and set off after the others. Whatever her doubts may be, today had proven cathartic. Nothing had been fixed, but perhaps there had been a little mending.

...

xxXxx

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Another long delay between update, but this time it wasn't due to any pressing issues IRL. I just found it super hard to write the Kallian/Adaia segment. In spite of the fact that I've had the entire conversation mapped out for months, it was very hard to put it down on paper in a way that I liked. So please, let me know how that particular section worked for all of you.

Next chapter will have plenty of action and a new narrator.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed recently. I appreciate the support and I'd also like to thank all of you who have placed me on favorites list.


	34. The Supine

**A/N: **Thanks so much to my beta reader Gorg for looking over the chapter!

Chapter 34-The Supine

-On Top of the Mountain-

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xxXxx

...

"Was it everythin' ya hoped it to be?"

Oghren glanced sidelong at the Warden as they set out into the calf-deep snow. Bringing up the very rear of the group, Oghren fumbled with the cork of his wineskin as they walked. Waiting in that blasted temple had given him a thirst, and his heavy gauntlets were making his fingers clumsy.

The elf blinked at him. "Are you talking about the ashes?"

"What else would I be askin' about, Sweetness? O'course I'm talkin' bout the soddin' ashes." Oghren gave up trying to free the cork with his hands and simply pried it loose with his teeth. "Hell, they better have been one hell of a sight if somebody thought to hide 'em up on a bloody mountain."

Kallian glanced back at the temple they had just exited. "It was just a pile of dust."

"Hrrr…figures. This had better work for that human lord."

"I think it might. I can't say why exactly, but I think it will." The Warden turned to face him. "If it doesn't...well, Sten will probably kill one of us."

Oghren chuckled and downed a few gulps of wine. It was gritty and sour, but it still tasted better than anything that had ever come out of Orzammar. Topsiders had no idea how lucky they were to have apples and grapes to work with. It was a damn sight harder to make good booze when all one had was a couple mushrooms and some lichen.

He almost tripped on a small rock because his attention was on the drink. The flat plain of the mountaintop was littered with boulders and the remains of ancient architecture. Halfway across the wide plateau, a battered watchtower rose up on the party's right side. That old relic was the only thing of interest on the mountaintop aside from the temple. Everything else was just a patchwork of ice, snow, and dark stone. After glaringly balefully at the rock that had caused him to stumble, he turned his attention back to the Warden.

"Bah, he just likes to make a fuss." He offered Kallian his wine and shrugged when she shook her head. "The poor bastard doesn't know how lucky he is to be here. Most of the poor sods in this world only have a hard day's work to look forward to. Our lives are a damn sight more interestin'."

The Warden smiled faintly. "I guess that's one way to look at it."

Oghren saluted her with his wineskin and tipped it to his mouth once more. He had a warm buzz weaving its way down his spine from the drink, and the unfriendly conditions of the mountain didn't seem all that troublesome. Smacking his lips in satisfaction once he had finished drinking, Oghren returned the skin to his belt.

"Ya' know somethin', Warden? I can't thank ya enough for takin' me along." A fleeting gush of emotion welled up inside of him as he realized the depths of his own gratitude. "Orzammar was no good for me. I was just sittin' around in the hopes that somethin' would happen. Branka mighta' been the excuse, but the truth was I would've just wasted away regardless. This is the life I want to lead: just fightin' and drinkin' all across the world."

Kallian shielded her eyes and checked the position of the sun. "Uh-huh, so you're actually happy to be here?"

"Sure as shit." Oghren cleared his throat. "Although, I could use a woman. It's been a long while since I had someone besides myself touch me."

The Warden sighed loudly. "Oghren..."

"Now hold on, I wasn't talkin' bout you, Sweetness. What, do ya' think I wanna wake up with one of Red's arrows in my nethers?" He winced at the thought and then plowed on ahead before the Warden could interrupt. "Look, I was just thinkin' that we could stop be this tavern that's on the way to Denerim. I got an old flame who's apparently workin' there, and it'd be nice to see her."

Kallian shook her head. "You want us to travel out of our way to help you get laid? I'm just going to go ahead and say 'no' without even asking where this tavern is."

"Ah, c'mon Warden, a man has needs." Oghren let his voice drop into a pleading whisper. "Do ya' have any idea how frustratin' it is to go this long without a little tenderness? There ain't a single woman in this group who wants to... err, relieve some stress with a dwarf."

"Try Morrigan."

"Yer hilarious."

"I dunno, Oghren." The Warden threw her hands up. "I don't even want to have this conversation. Talk to Zevran about your needs or something. That's what guys do, right?"

Oghren groaned in despair. "That damn elf would just make fun of me."

"So ask Alistair."

"Aw, he'll say just say no."

"Yeah, that's what I'm counting-" The Warden came to an abrupt halt. Holding up a hand, she narrowed her eyes and raised her voice to a near shout. "Hey, we've got more of those cultists!"

Her words made the rest of the party stop and look back. Kallian was pointing directly ahead of them in the direction of the tunnel that led back down to Haven. Two skinny figures had appeared from the mouth of the tunnel with something large cradled in their arms. Struggling under the weight of the oddly-shaped object, the two cultists carried it out in the open and began fiddling with it.

Oghren frowned in confusion. The party was only about halfway across the plateau that formed the mountaintop, and he couldn't imagine what these nutters were up to. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached back and loosened the strap that held his war hammer in place. After he had slung the weapon down, he stepped forward to get a better look. Though he couldn't be sure, it looked like the two crazies were setting up one of those massive horns that night sentries used to alert a fortress.

"Is that a horn?" Alistair mused aloud as he studied the distant figures. "Whatever, I doubt it's something we are going to like. Leliana? Would you mind...?"

The bard had already slid her bow out of the waxed leather cylinder that protected it form the elements. Taking a bowstring in one hand, she bent the bow and strung it in a single, practiced motion. She then drew an arrow from her quiver and started moving forward. "We need to be closer."

Those in the party who didn't have their weapons at hand took a moment to free them. Alistair and Kallian kept their swords sheathed, but Zevran paused long enough to fit a quarrel to his tiny crossbow. Snorting derisively at the weapon, Oghren nodded in approval when he saw Sten preparing his own sword for a fight. Even he was a complainer, that qunari knew the proper way to bash in a skull. As soon as everyone was ready, they all began trotting after Leliana.

Oghren nearly stumbled out of surprise when first horn blast tore its way across the mountaintop. The resonate howl of the instrument echoed for many long seconds after the sound had ended. It was terrifyingly loud, and Oghren's chest vibrated unpleasantly with the low moan. Ahead of him, he saw both Zevran and the Warden clap their hands to their ears with nearly identical yelps of pain. Even though they were still roughly one hundred yards from where the cultists were sounding the horn, this prompted Leliana to pull an arrow back and loose it in a high arc.

The projectile went several feet wide of its mark, and Oghren could hear the bard muttering in her foreign topsider tongue. The horn rang out twice more in the time it took her to ready a second arrow. Taking a few steps forward, Leliana fired after a long hesitation. This time, the arrow sailed off to bury itself in the body of the man who was blowing the horn. He crumpled like a puppet without strings, and Oghren half-expected the second man to immediately take his place on the cursed horn.

The cultist however, had a different idea.

Charging down the hill with a club hefted in one hand, the idiot made directly for the party with a howl of victory. Alistair raised his hand to motion for a halt, and the party came to a halt some sixty yards from the mouth of the tunnel. Leliana watched the man running towards them for a few beats before sliding another arrow to her string. Pulling the string taut, she aimed for a moment and released the arrow.

It struck the man in his right shoulder, but this barely slowed him down. Lurching and stumbling somewhat, he nonetheless resumed his suicidal charge with even more vigor than before. Swiftly, Leliana put a second arrow in the man's stomach. This one had considerably more effect, and the man staggered for a few more steps before dropping to his knees. He tried to get up, but his legs crumpled underneath him almost immediately.

The party exchanged looks as the last echoes of the final horn blast faded. Moving together as a single group, they approached the fallen cultists with the weapons held at the ready. The man was writhing on his back, and when they drew close, he lifted his head and gave them an exultant smile. "You..you're...you're too late...heathens!"

"These gentlemen certainly don't give up, do they?" Zevran spoke in that laughing tone of his. "Even when we've slaughtered them and acquired the ashes, they remain convinced they've won."

Alistair seemed more concerned than the assassin. Bending down slightly, he met the dying man's eyes with a grim expression. "Too late for what?"

"His instrument…is coming." The man hacked a wet cough and bloody bubbles frothed at the corners of his lips. "And He will f-feast…on you…and on your false…god."

He coughed twice more and clutched at the shaft protruding from his abdomen. Alistair stared down at the man for a few seconds before drawing a dagger from his belt. With a swift motion, he plunged the blade directly into the man's heart. It was an act of mercy, and Oghren nodded in approval. No reason for a man to suffer just because he wasn't right in the head.

"I'm so tired of this place." Alistair stepped away from the corpse with a sigh. "I never thought I'd miss the Darkspawn, but at least killing them felt honest."

Kallian nodded. "Plus, it's way too cold up here."

"Ya got that right," Oghren snorted and nudged the corpse with his boot. "Between these loonies and the cold, I'm ready to have a few pints besides a nice, big fire."

Morrigan scoffed at him from where she was standing beside Alistair. "The dwarf wants to drink. Forgive me if my surprise is not evident."

Oghren glared over at her for a few seconds but managed to avoid rising to the bait. The witch might be one of the finest pieces of arse he ever laid eyes on, but she made Branka seem warm and loving by comparison. Much as he'd like to let her know exactly what she could do with her snarky attitude, he couldn't seem to think of a clever retort. Growing desperate as the seconds ticked by, he settled on just calling her an unpleasant name.

Before he could do so however, a very loud shriek cut through the blustering wind. Much higher in pitch than the horn had been, this new sound seemed to come from everywhere at once. The hairs on the back of Oghren's stood on end, and he dipped into a reflexive crouch. Whirling about in an attempt to locate the source of the shriek, he frowned when the mountaintop revealed itself to be as empty as it had been before the cultists had appeared.

"What on earth was that?" Wynne's voice seemed hushed in the silence that followed the screaming cry. "It didn't sound like any horn I've ever heard."

Leliana closer to Oghren with an arrow fitted to her string. "It sounded like an animal."

"Let's hope not. It would have to be a very large animal."

As if answer to the mage's statement, the horrible shriek rose up from their surroundings once more. The Warden's Mabari began issuing a low and agitated growl as it paced back and forth in front of her. Tightening his grip on the war hammer, Oghren felt a jolt of unease as he scanned the white expanse of the plateau. It may have been his imagination, but it had sounded even louder the second time.

"Alright, let's just get back into the ruins." Alistair's voice was decisive as he pointed towards the mouth of the tunnel. "It'll be good to get some cover and then we can—"

A shadow passed overhead so quickly that Oghren didn't even have time to react before he was nearly knocked off his feet by a vicious tremor that shook the icy ground. Spinning his arms around wildly in order to keep his balance, he righted himself with effort and looked up to see what had happened.

Only to find that a monster had landed in front of them.

Fifteen-feet high at the shoulder, the beast resembled a lizard in only the most cosmetic sense. Its armored scales were the blackish-red color of dark wine, and massive, leathery wings sprouted from its back like awnings over a merchant's stall. Atop a long and slender neck, its reptilian head was dominated by blazing yellow eyes and a mouthful of teeth like daggers. Behind its coiled and muscular body, a slender tail whipped back and forth as though the creature was anxious to pounce.

Worst of all, it was standing between them and the entrance to the tunnel.

"Holy shit," Kallian breathed out a hushed, disbelieving laugh. "They have a pet dragon. A fucking…dragon."

Oghren could only stare up at the dragon in dumbfounded silence. There were always rumors of dragons being sighted around the Frostback Mountains, but those had always turned out to be nothing more than the fanciful tales of the extremely drunk. Most sensible people were of the opinion that dragons had died off completely in Ferelden. To have one of the fabled, and justifiably feared, creatures in front of him was entirely overwhelming.

"Ok...everyone just back up very slowly." Alistair drew out every word with exaggerated care. "Maybe it won't-"

Any further comments were forestalled when the dragon opened its gaping maw and blew a plume of fire directly at the party. Roaring a startled curse, Oghren leapt to one side with all the force his short legs could muster. The cold air around him suddenly heated up to an uncomfortable degree, and every other sound was eclipsed by the gushing scream of the flames.

He rolled when he hit the ground and miraculously recovered his footing. The party looked as though they had escaped the flames relatively unscathed. Alistair was currently helping Morrigan extinguish the part of her robes that had caught fire, and Oghren could see Kallian cowering behind a small boulder.

They were completely split up however, and Oghren was quick to notice that many of them were out in the open. Glancing left and right for something to use as cover, he ducked behind a crumbling stretch of something that might have once been a stone wall. Peeking his head out, he grunted as he watched the dragon prowl forward.

It was heading directly towards Sten. If the qunari had even the smallest grain of sense, he would have turned around and started running. Instead, the giant brought his blade up to bear and adopted a stance as if to challenge the monster. Uttering another curse as he realized the depths of Sten's insanity, Oghren leapt out from behind his cover and charged towards the dragon in the hopes of somehow distracting it.

Thankfully, he wasn't the only one to have that idea. Before he had even covered ten yards, Oghren saw an arrow whiz through the air a bare second before it clattered harmlessly off of the scales on the creature's snout. The token gesture did serve to get the dragon's attention for a moment. Snorting irritably, the creature turned its head and blasted another fireball in the general direction of where Leliana was shooting from. The bard hastily dived behind a nearby snowdrift, and Oghren soon lost sight of her as flames engulfed the ground nearby.

Sten chose this moment to make his move. Rushing forward with his sword trailing behind him, the qunari brought the heavy blade around in a tremendous slash to the dragon's front leg. It must have scored a hit of some kind, for the dragon immediately roared and jerked back in pain.

Unfortunately, this just seemed to piss the critter off.

Glaring down malevolently at the qunari for a moment, the dragon lashed out and swatted Sten with one of its paws. There was a squeal of tortured metal as the dragon's talons tore into Sten's armor, and then the qunari giant was sent hurtling off to the side like a discarded ragdoll. Cursing once more when the creature moved to pursue the downed warrior, Oghren reached his target. Before he could think about what he was doing, he took his hammer in both hands and swung it into the back of the dragon's nearest ankle.

The dragon yelped, and then twisted its head around to stare at Oghren. For a few long moments, dwarf and monster locked eyes in a fashion that would have made a lesser man shit himself. As it was, Oghren just felt a terrible sense of foreboding as the dragon's lips drew back in a snarl.

"Hrrrr…..shitfire."

He wasn't sure what hit him exactly. It might have been a paw, or a wing, or even the dragon's tail. Whatever it was, he blacked out for a second or two, and then woke up flying through the air. Crying out as he slammed into a very unyielding chuck of ice, Oghren rolled several times and wound up lying on his back.

Dazed, he stared up at the white sky overhead and tried not to think about all the different places he hurt. His spine felt like a twisted mass of wet rope, and his head ached in the worst possible way. Content to just lie there for a moment, he blinked stupidly when armored hands slid under his armpits and hoisted him to his feet.

"You alright?" Alistair didn't wait for a response before he pointed off to the left. "We have to keep it distracted until Morrigan and Wynne can work something up! "

"Right...distracted." Oghren swayed a bit and then recovered most of his senses. "That's easier said than done, kid."

"You have a better idea?"

Oghren didn't; so he just nodded and cast about for his war hammer. To his immense relief, he found it buried half-way in a snowdrift some ten feet from where he had landed. Hurrying over, he tugged the weapon free and turned back to rejoin the battle.

As he ran, he took a moment to marvel at exactly how far the dragon had thrown him. It had to have been at least twenty yards, and he realized that he was lucky to have escaped with only some bruises and what might shape up to be a concussion. Shrugging off his astonishment, he doubled his speed in an effort to help the others.

Zevran and Leliana were hanging back out of the range of the dragon's claws and tail. Both of them were firing their weapons at whatever part of the dragon looked to be the softest. Seeing as the fire-breathing lizard was covered in armor, this didn't prove to be very effective. Their task was made even more difficult by the fact that they also had to avoid hitting Kallian, and the sodding Mabari. Both of them were nipping the dragon's heels in an attempt to keep the animal occupied.

Surprisingly, it looked like the Warden was actually having the most success out of all of them. Desperately darting about in order to avoid the dragon's attempts to stomp her, Kallian was lashing out with her short sword at every opportunity. The little blade was barely long enough to qualify as a sword, but it was cutting deeply into the creature's armor in spite of this. Already, thick splatters of purplish-blood were staining the snow around the dragon's feet.

Not one to let women and dogs do all the fighting, Oghren hefted his hammer and charged forward with a battle cry that would have done a paragon proud. Sprinting up to the nearest leg, he swung the hammer overhead and slammed it down onto one of the dragon's black claws.

It cracked like brittle masonry, and the dragon released a squeal of an unmistakable pain. Folding the injured limb close to its body, the reptilian monster sprang back a little and flapped its wings to steady itself. The concussive force of those massive wings fluttering blew Kallian and her dog off their feet. Floundering in the snow, the Warden regained her feet just in time to catch the tip of the dragon's tail directly to the side of her head. Spinning halfway around, she crumpled lifelessly to the snow.

"Shitfire," Oghren gritted his teeth and waved his arms in an attempt to draw the dragon's attention. "Shitfire and damnation…"

The dragon didn't even spare him a glance, but the massive beast certainly took note of what happened next. With a sharp crack, the world vanished in a blinding flash as bolts of lightning arced across the battle field in a brilliant barrage. Oghren was forced to shield his eyes from the display, but there was no way to escape the howl of agony that pierced his eardrums. This was soon followed by a cacophony of bestial screams and the shuddering cracks of a heavy body slamming against rock and ice.

When he finally hazarded a look, he saw why the dragon was so upset. The lightning had burned several black marks into the creature's neck and torso, but the true injury was to its face. One of the bolts must have struck its right eye, for the socket was nothing but a blackened crater that oozed a milky ichor.

Tearing his eyes away from the dragon's agonized throes, Oghren remembered the Warden. Turning, he was relieved to see that she had gotten to her feet and was stumbling away from the thrashing tail of dragon. Kallian was clutching at her head, but Oghren suspected he'd be doing the same in her position.

He whirled back around to face the dragon when a blast of heat passed by overhead. The dragon was completely ignoring both him and Kallian in favor of pursing Morrigan. It had correctly decided that the witch was the cause behind its injury, and it looked eager for some vengeance. Expelling another fireball from its maw, the monster charged towards Morrigan in a mindless rage.

Unlike Sten, the witch was smart enough to start running in the opposite direction.

Alistair rushed forward to intercept the dragon's path. Holding his shield out like a knight from some children's tale, the human leapt and swung his sword at the exposed belly of the beast. It was a superficial hit, but the dragon lurched nonetheless. It twisted its head around and blasted a mouthful of flames at Alistair. The human cried out as his armor was bathed in the heat. Stripping off his burning cloak, Alistair rolled in the snow in an apparent attempt to cool the scorched metal.

The dragon barely even slowed down as it stalked after Morrigan's retreating figure. The witch was making for the dubious cover of the collapsed tower, but Oghren could see that she wouldn't reach it in time. Her pursuer was gaining on her quickly, and the slippery ice was making it difficult for Morrigan to flee. Panting as he ran forward as fast as he could, Oghren cursed when the chase abruptly came to an end.

With the ease of a cat hunting a mouse, the dragon swung a heavy paw at Morrigan and knocked her right off of her feet. The witch rolled ass over ears for several yards before coming to a stop. Crowing triumphantly the dragon stood over the fallen woman and opened its jaws wide in anticipation of a kill.

Oghren was still too far away to do anything, but Zevran was not. Appearing from out of nowhere, the assassin sprinted in front of Morrigan and fired his crossbow one-handed. The tiny projectile shot upwards to bury itself in the roof of the dragon's mouth. It wasn't a killing shot by any means, but the effect was gratifyingly dramatic.

Screeching like a stuck nug, the beast twisted its head around wildly as if to dislodge the quarrel. It issued several loud coughs and then roared in anger once more. Oghren found himself laughing as he ran forward. That elf was always there when he was needed.

What happened next tore the smile from Oghren's lips. Lashing out with one clawed limb, the dragon caught Zevran unawares as he was helping Morrigan regain her feet. Bright-red blood spurted in the frigid air as the assassin's knees buckled and he fell forward. The dragon wasn't finished, and before Oghren could even cry out, it had scooped Zevran up and hurled his limp form across the ice.

"No, damnit!" Oghren felt the familiar rage build inside him as he lunged forward. The anger made him stronger, and he'd be damned if he didn't put it to good use.

He reached the dragon faster than he had been expecting. This close, he could see that the creature was plenty injured. The Warden and Sten had done some nasty work around its legs and underbelly, and Oghren could smell the cooked flesh from where Morrigan's lighting had struck. Heedless of the danger, he rushed towards the creature and slammed his weapon into the bony joint of an ankle.

Screaming in pained fury, the dragon tried to crush him with its paws. Constantly moving to avoid its efforts, he kept hammering away at anything he could reach even after his shoulders and arms started protesting each motion. At some point, he became aware that Kallian and Alistair had joined him. The two of them were helping as best they could, but it was clear that both were suffering from their respective injuries.

Not long after their appearance, Oghren began to wonder why the dragon was no longer trying to move away from their assault. The monster was still flailing and doing its best to crush them, but it didn't move from where it was standing. If anything, its movements were becoming desperate as though it were somehow trapped.

"Oghren!" Wynne's voice somehow reached him in the midst of his battle rage. "Oghren! The leg!"

At first, Oghren wanted to yell back that all he had been doing was hitting legs, and then he noticed something that had escaped his attention. The dragon's front-left leg was covered in stone from the knee down. Somehow, it had become rooted to the very earth on which they stood.

Not bothering to think about how Wynne had managed this, Oghren leapt forward and swung the mightiest blow he could muster. The petrified limb cracked under the force of his strike, and Oghren stepped back when the he realized what would happened when the dragon lost its support. Retreating as quickly as he could, Oghren watched as the stressed limb finally crumbled in a shower of stone and blood.

Bellowing in distress, the dragon slammed down onto its side when it tried to put weight on the bleeding stump that had once been its left paw. The creature's remaining limbs kicked at the air as it tried to regain its footing. Oghren was on the wrong side of the beast to capitalize on its vulnerability, but the others were not similarly hindered. Both Alistair and Kallian had rushed in at the first opportunity to strike at the dragon's exposed throat. Though it lifted its head to snap and bite at them, it was clear that blood loss had weakened the massive creature.

"Back away from the dragon!"

Morrigan's voice rang out a few short seconds before a crackling storm of lightning appeared overhead. Oghren backed up as quickly as he could, and he saw that the Wardens had similarly fled. No sooner had they gotten clear when the lightning abruptly coalesced into a shimmering pillar that shot downwards to ram into the wounded dragon's chest. The stench of ozone filled the air and the world became suffused with a blue glow that bleached the surrounding landscape. Oghren winced as the overwhelming chorus of thunderous cracks reached an awe-inspiring crescendo.

As quickly as it had started, the magical tempest vanished.

In the aftermath, the dragon lay mostly motionless on the icy rock of the mountain. The occasional spasm made it twitch slightly, but Oghren had no doubts that it was now dead. On the other side of the lightly steaming corpse, he could see that Morrigan had collapsed out of exhaustion. The rest of the party was spread out across the battle field, with Sten and Leliana being the farthest from them. It looked as though the qunari was badly injured, and the bard was doing her best to support his weight with her slender frame. Kallian's dog was trotting at their side, and it looked as though Sten was using the animal for support as well. Noticing that both Wynne and Alistair were converging on the point where Morrigan lay, Oghren suddenly realized that he had forgotten something.

Letting his hammer fall out of his hands, Oghren scanned the bloody and scorched plateau for Zevran's body. For a moment, he was at a loss, but then he spotted Kallian sprinting over towards a cluster of small rocks. Oghren couldn't see what she was heading for, but he took a wild guess and started hurrying after her.

She reached their destinations several seconds before he did. Immediately falling to her knees, she held her hands up as if she were unsure of what to do. Once Oghren had gotten close enough to see around the boulders, he understood why.

Zevran's face and chest were a mess of blood. The dragon's claws had carved two long, diagonal furrows from the left side of his forehead to the middle of his ribcage. Oghren didn't think of himself as having a delicate constitution, but the horrific damage to the elf's body almost turned his stomach. Based solely on appearances, he'd say that Zevran was dead.

Then, the elf coughed weakly.

The sound galvanized the Warden into action. Whipping her bandanna off, she pressed the strip of clothe against a wound on Zevran's neck that was oozing blood. She put pressure on the makeshift bandage with one hand and started fumbling at a pouch on her belt with the other. Pulling a small bottle free, she started tearing at the wax seal with her teeth. Finally freeing the cork, she forced the neck of the bottle into Zevran's mouth and poured the Elfroot mixture down the assassin's throat.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." She was uttering the word like a near-hysteric mantra. Noticing Oghren's presence at last, she glared and snapped at him. "What the fuck are you standing around for? Go get Wynne, now!"

Starting with a jolt, Oghren nodded quickly and turned to race off. Luckily for him, it seemed as though the elderly mage was already on her way. Alistair was helping her along the treacherous rocks, and Oghren waved them over even though it was clear where they had to go. He wasn't much good at dealing with this kind of thing, so he stepped back to give the mage some space.

"Kallian, keep pressure on that." Wynne's voice became clipped and authoritative as she knelt down beside Zevran. "What's that bottle there? Elfroot? We're far beyond Elfroot by now."

The Warden winced. "I just thought-"

"No matter, it won't hurt. Alistair, I need you to get him to drink two full bottles of lyrium."

"Lyrium?" Alistair glanced at Wynne. "What will that do?"

"Not the time for questions. Just give him the lyrium and trust that I know what I'm doing."

Oghren watched as Alistair began searching his pack for the magical substance. He felt powerfully thirsty himself, and so he tugged his wineskin free. Draining it in three massive gulps, Oghren wiped his mouth and stared down at the fallen elf. "Why can't ya just do that thing ya did on the road? Fix him that way?"

Wynne didn't even look up. "I believe that would kill me. Also, healing all these wounds at once would create a backlash intense enough to stop his heart three times over. Is that what you want?"

Grumbling nonsensically, Oghren turned around and checked to see where the rest of the party was located. Sten and Leliana had joined up with Morrigan, and all three of them were on their way over. Feeling like he ought to be doing something, Oghren turned back around once more. Wynne's hands were now glowing, and she was moving them in slow circles above Zevran's chest.

"Alistair, you know how to dress a wound I trust?" Her voice was strained as she spoke. "Start with the wound on his neck and move downward. Don't worry about his face, those injuries won't be the ones that kill him. At least, not as quickly."

Kallian lifted her head. "I know enough about wounds. Should I help?"

"No, keep the pressure on until Alistair takes over. Then sit down and drink an Elfroot potion yourself. That head wound looks nasty."

Oghren glanced over and saw that the Warden had an ugly bruise on the side of her head. The skin had split at some point, and dried blood stained the side of her neck and face. Moving over, he motioned for her to let him take her place. Oghren pressed down on the blood-soaked bandanna until Alistair was ready with one of the cotton bandages from their supplies. The human bound the wound with a practiced motion and immediately began working on the next injury.

Oghren settled back once it was clear that Wynne would have to do the rest. Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, part of him was concerned about the elf's welfare. Zevran could be a pain in the arse, but he was a decent sort under the right circumstances. Besides. no one wanted one of their companions to die on some forgotten mountain.

The rest of the party joined up soon enough. Oghren could hear Leliana and Kallian speaking in hushed tones from behind him. Morrigan came up to stand next to Oghren, and he noted with some distaste that her face was completely impassive as she watched Wynne work. He hadn't expected the bitch to break down into tears or anything, but she could at least show some gratitude for what Zevran had done.

Sooner than he might have expected, Wynne withdrew her hands from Zevran's chest and heaved a sigh. Her face was flushed and sweaty as she slowly stood up. "We need to make a litter of some kind. He'll freeze to death if we don't get him off the ice."

Alistair nodded and starting pulling his ground cloth free from his pack. "Is he going to live?"

"He's lost too much blood to be certain. I've closed the worst of his injuries, but I'm not sure it will be enough. I want to give his body some time to rest before I try to heal anything else. He's too weak to handle even a minor backlash of energy." Wynne paused and gazed around the mountaintop. "Regardless, he will certainly die if we remain up here. Once we get him back to Haven, I'll have a clearer picture."

"We're going to need some long sticks." Alistair frowned in thought. " Though I don't know where we're going to find them up here."

"Use our staves." Wynne pointed at Morrigan as she said this. "A mage's staff will be able to support his weight many times over."

"Right."

Even though Morrigan gave up her staff with obvious reluctance, soon Alistair was folding his ground cloth over the staves to form a basic stretcher. In spite of the injuries to his ribs, Sten moved forward and helped Alistair lift Zevran onto the stretcher with only a slight effort. The elf groaned a bit at the motion, but his eyes remaining closed.

"Ok, we'll take turns carrying him." Alistair removed his pack and offered it to Oghren. "We're going to have to split up the gear so we can manage."

Oghren took the pack without complaint. Opening it, he began to parcel out the contents into different piles for everyone who wouldn't be carrying the stretcher. Aside from Wynne, most everyone ended up with an extra twenty pounds. He grimly noted that the trip down was going to be extremely difficult with these new burdens and their injuries.

"Nothing is ever easy." The Warden seem to be of the same mind as he when she hefted her pack and glanced back at the dragon's corpse. "If it isn't Darkspawn or abominations, it's fucking dragons."

"A pity we had to kill it." Wynne sounded distracted as she poured healing magic into Sten's side. They were going to need his strength to get Zevran down the mountain, and Wynne had just downed three vials of lyrium in order to fix his injuries. "There are so few left, and I imagine that it was just defending its territory."

"I'll shed a tear for it once we're off this rock." Oghren snorted and wished he had thought to bring more wine. This was definitely the time for drinking.

Once Sten had been patched up, he and Alistair lifted Zevran's litter between them. Adjusting his grip on Wynne's staff, Alistair looked the party over for a moment. "We're going to go slowly. If anyone needs to rest, just say so and we'll stop."

Leliana had been good enough to retrieve Oghren's war hammer, and she passed it to him with a nod. Grunting his thanks, Oghren used the weapon like a crude walking stick as the party began trudging towards the mouth of the tunnel. His back and right leg were starting to throb as the alcohol and adrenaline began to wear off. It was going to be a very unpleasant descent.

He stopped at the mouth of the cave and let the others go past him. Taking a brief second, he turned back and took in the sight of the dragon's corpse. Great pools of purplish blood were staining the snow around the creature's form, and he could tell that it was already beginning to freeze into icy sheets. Beyond the pain in his muscles and the nebulous unease that had settled over him, Oghren realized that he had helped to kill an actual dragon.

"Huh...shitfire."

With that encompassing statement left lingering in the air, he turned and hobbled after the others.

...

xxXxx

It had taken them almost twice as long to descend the mountain as it had taken them to climb it.

Oghren sagged in the uncomfortable wooden chair and sipped greedily from the mug of ale that Alistair had set before him. Even without the weight of his armor bearing down on his shoulders, he felt weaker than a newborn kitten. His back and neck had tightened up horribly, and it was almost impossible for him to find a position that didn't cause him pain. That persistent discomfort was the only thing that kept him from retiring to his bedroll.

The group had taken up residence at Haven's general store. It was the only place that was relatively free of the villagers grotesque idols, and it also had the advantage of being fully stocked with both food and firewood. After the nasty business on top of the mountain, the roaring fire and warm food proved to be the finest things Oghren had ever experienced. Of course, the generous supply of alcohol in the cellar was just icing on the cake.

He glanced around the large common room that had probably served as a tavern when Haven had been a normal town. Most of the party had more or less fallen asleep the moment they had gotten their bedrolls unpacked. Injuries and exertions had taken their toll, and it was clear that everyone had been pushed to his or her absolute limit today.

Kallian and Leliana were curled up together in one corner of the room. The Warden had been the only one aside from Sten and Zevran to receive any magical healing from Wynne. Even that had been little more than a cursory inspection just to make sure she wasn't bleeding into her brain. Once it had become clear that the Warden wasn't in any immediate danger of dying, Wynne had disappeared back into the stockroom where they had laid Zevran.

Of all of them, Wynne was working the hardest. The mage had healed Zevran twice on the way down from the mountain, and she had been tending to him constantly since the party had arrived back in Haven. To Oghren's surprise, she had been assisted primarily by Morrigan. The witch had mixed some foul-smelling remedy that she claimed would help him recover. She had then helped Wynne in some way or the other until she had come back into the common room and promptly collapsed on her bedroll.

Sten had also gone to sleep quickly, which left Oghren sitting with Alistair and Brother Genitivi. Both of the humans looked worse for the wear, but the babbling brother was still glowing from the discovery of the ruins. Alistair just looked worn out and exhausted, but he had offered to take the first watch nonetheless. If Oghren had to guess, he'd say that the human was staying up out of some form of guilt over Zevran's injury. It was stupid, but in Oghren's experience, good leaders always treated a casualty like a personal failing.

That sense of responsibility raised Oghren's opinion of the other man even if it was misplaced. Alistair was young and a bit soft, but he was coping better than most would in his position. Given a few years, he might shape up to be a formidable leader. At least, that was if he lived long enough to get some proper experience under his belt.

"So, as I was saying," Brother Gentivi's reedy voice jarred Oghren out of his thoughts. "Though the villagers butchered most of their livestock, I believe that there is a pair of mules in one of the barns. I caught a glimpse of them when my captors were dragging me to the ruins."

Alistair nodded. "Good, we'll check on them in the morning. If they're in any condition to pull a cart, we can set off immediately."

"What if they are not?"

"Then things will get complicated. We can't delay our trip to Redcliffe because a matter of days might mean the difference between Arl Eamon living or dying. At the same time, Zevran is in no condition to travel by foot. Worst comes to worst, we may have to split up and travel to Redcliffe in separate groups. Some of us could stay with Zevran until he's fit to travel, and the rest could go on ahead to deliver the ashes."

Oghren say a flaw in Alistair's logic. "How do ya' know we'd be able to get a cart down the mountain anyway?"

"I don't," Alistair admitted with a sigh. "But the roads weren't that bad when we came up. If these villagers were living on a mountain, than I would hope their carts are built fairly well. Either way, it's going to depend on how things look tomorrow."

"What about you, brother? Are ya plannin' on coming with us?"

"For a time, I suspect I will." The scribe looked surprised that Oghren had spoken to him. "However, as soon as we arrive in a proper town, I plan on making preparations to return here. This wonderful find must be shared with the rest of the world."

Alistair rubbed at his eyes. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe this temple is better left alone."

The brother looked absolutely scandalized by the suggestion. "Nonsense, It is hardly our prerogative to hide something of this importance."

"This is your decision, brother. Just give the matter some thought."

All three of them looked up when the door to the stockroom opened to allow Wynne into the common area. The mage stumbled as she walked, and Alistair half-stood when it looked like she was going to collapse. With his help, Wynne all but fell into the nearest chair and blew out a tired breath. Shakily reaching for a mug, she motioned for Oghren to pour her some of the ale.

Lifting the ewer that Alistair had earlier drawn from one of the casks that lined the walls, Oghren filled her mug with a full measure of the amber liquid. Amazingly, the old woman downed the entire thing quicker than even Oghren himself could have. Pouring her a second glass without being asked, he jerked his head towards the stockroom she had just vacated.

"Well, how is he?"

"He's not dead, and that truly is something remarkable." Wynne's voice was leaden and choked by fatigue. "I stopped his heart twice while trying to heal him. If Morrigan hadn't been there the second time...well, let's just thank the Maker she was."

Alistair's eyebrows drew together in concern. "Is he going to live?"

"I believe so. His condition is as close to stable as I could make it. He's going to lose an eye, but aside from that and some nasty scars, I think he will make it through this."

"That's damn good news." Alistair breathed the words out and smiled wanly. "I didn't think it was possible considering the way he looked."

Wynne ducked her head in agreement. "It was as near a thing as I have ever seen. His body is suffused with magic at this point. By all rights, he should be suffering massive organ failure with that much energy tearing through his system. It's almost more impressive that he survived the healing rather than the attack itself."

"I don't get it," Oghren frowned at her in confusion. "Ya' healed all of us back on the road and it didn't kill us. What made this different?"

"For one thing, none of you suffered wounds anywhere close to what Zevran experienced. You have to understand, he was moments from death when I started to heal him." She waved an expressive hand and drank from her mug before continuing. "Half of what I was doing up there was just encouraging his body to produce more blood. He was teetering on the edge of death the entire way down the mountain."

"So, the difference is that ya' just used more magic?"

"Yes, a toxic amount. Had it not been for the lyrium we forced him to drink, he would have died long before we got him here. It acted as a buffer of sorts; allowing the magic to mend his body without damaging his cells. Even so, he reached his limit before I could move onto his less life-threatening injuries. His face will have to heal on its own."

Alistair tapped a finger against the tabletop. "Could you fix his eye tomorrow? When he's had a chance to recover?"

"I wouldn't risk touching him with magic for at least a month. Perhaps even longer." Wynne shook her head quickly. "Ordinary people are not meant to channel that type of energy. Your bodies reject it like a virus, and the results can be devastating. He will have to make do on Elfroot and whatever Morrigan can make to ease his pain."

Oghren grunted as he lifted his mug. "Damn shame."

"Yes, but at least he's alive." Wynne bowed her head. "He's even awake and back to his usual self. The first thing he did was mumble something about how lucky he was to have such a 'comely' healer tending to him."

Alistair uttered a short laugh. "He never turns it off, does he?"

"It's one of his charms."

Oghren chuckled at that and drained the last of his beer. His back protested the motion, and he winced as he set the mug down. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he was considerably more drunk, he looked at Alistair and Wynne. "The two of ya' should get some rest. I'll go ahead and take the watch."

"You're sure?" Alistair didn't sound very adverse to the idea. "I can stay up if you want..."

"Sod it lad, yer fallin' asleep at the damn table. Just go and get some sleep." He made his voice extra gruff so Alistair would know not to argue. "I ain't lettin' some stupid lizard tire me out."

"Thanks, Oghren."

After murmuring a quick goodnight, both of them stood up and made for their respective bedrolls. It was just as well, Oghren knew that they needed sleep just as much as he did. Refilling his mug with ale, Oghren stared across the table at Brother Genitivi. The bookish human was giving him an expectant look, and Ogrhen didn't have the foggiest idea of what would possess him to do so.

"Uh, forgive me, master dwarf." Genitivi smiled grinned nervously. "If you don't mind me asking, I've always had an interest in the culture of your people. Unfortunately, I've rarely had the opportunity to speak with one of your kind. There were some dwarves in Denerim, but they very rarely ventured into the library. I always wondered about the caste system of Orzammar; is it a social hierarchy that you would consider-"

Oghren interrupted him by jabbing a finger in his direction. "Let me ask ya' somethin', I heard that brothers can't ever rut with a woman. Is that true?"

"Oh...well, it's true that we take a vow of celibacy." Genitive scratched at his balding pate furtively. "It's meant to be a mark of our devotion to the Maker."

Concealing his smirk, Oghren gave a sagely nod and leaned in conspiritoraly. "Alright, I get what yer sayin'. But what about the type of thing that doesn't quite fit the bill when it comes to ruttin'? I mean, are ya' allowed to do all the other stuff?"

"I'm afraid I do not understand what you mean."

"Ya' know, the deviant stuff that doesn't involve gettin' yer swimmer wet." Oghren almost burst out laughing when he saw the expression that passed over the brother's face. "Tell ya what, I'll give ya an example."

"Please, you don't-"

"I knew this one girl who used to work at my favorite tavern. Her and I used to fool around a bit after her shift was over. While that was fine and dandy, the broad had a thing for vegetables! She liked to bring them into the bedroom and get creative if yer catchin' my meaning."

"Um..."

"Now, you have no idea how expensive a cauliflower is in Orzammar. It's worth more than gold in places where the sun don't shine. Speakin' of which, ya' shoulda seen where she would put those ruttin' things."

"Oh dear," Genitivi pushed his chair away from the table with a comical amount of haste. "I think I've become rather tired all of a sudden. Please do forgive my rudeness, but I believe I must retire for the evening. Perhaps we might have this discussion at a later date?"

Oghren shrugged indifferently. "Well, if ya' want. Though ya' really should wait around for the part about the rutabagas."

"No...no, I'm terribly sorry, but I must go."

Chuckling under his breath, Oghren watched as the scribe scurried off to his own bunk as quickly as he could with one broken leg. It was almost too easy to tease a holy man.

He swiftly drank his mug of ale, and then poured himself another. After taking that one at a more reasonable pace, he stood up from the table and limped over to where his pack was leaning against a wall. Drawing a slender bottle out of one of the front pockets, Oghren took it in hand and headed for the door to the stockroom. He had been saving his fancy whiskey for a special occasion, and he figured that this was as good as any.

The stockroom smelled powerfully of the astringent herbs that Morrigan and Wynne had used. Atop of a small cot on one side of the room, Zevran was lying on his back with most of his chest and face covered in bandages. Half of his features were covered in the gauzy material, and Oghren could see that the white bandages were stained red where his blood had seeped through. At the slight creak of the door opening, the assassin opened his eye and gazed blearily up at Oghren.

"To what do I owe this dubious honor?" His voice was ragged, but surprisingly firm.

"Just thought I should be the one to tell ya'," Oghren settled down on a stool that was next to the assassin's cot. "...I'm the pretty one of the group now."

Zevran made a short coughing sound that Oghren realized was laughter. Groaning as he brought his hand up to clasp at his wounded side, Zevran sucked in a wheezing breath. "_Gilipollas_...don't make me laugh."

"Hrr...Always heard that laughter was the best medicine."

"A terrible lie." Zevran groaned once more and let his hand fall to his side. "A powerful painkiller sounds infinitely better at the moment."

"Well, I got the next best thing." Oghren lifted the whiskey up so that the assassin could see it. "Dwarven whiskey from the nicer parts of Orzammar. It's damn good stuff, and it kicks like a soddin' mule."

"I could kiss you."

Oghren grimaced as he wrenched the cork out of the bottle. Using a hand to lift Zevran's head, he tipped a small amount into the assassin's mouth. He expected Zevran to cough and sputter on the high-proof alcohol, but the elf swallowed without any sign of difficulty. Nodding in approval, Oghren lifted the bottle to his own lips and drank a fair measure. The oaky burn was every bit as intense as he remember it to be.

"Hell of a day." He muttered as he wiped his mouth.

"You have no idea." Zevran shut his eye and sighed. "The dragon was an unpleasant surprise."

"I know, right? The one true story I'm ever gonna tell, and it's gonna be the one that nobody will believe."

The corner of Zevran's mouth curled up into a smile. "If it's any consolation to you, we don't believe the other ones either."

"Heh."

Oghren helped Zevran drink another few mouthfuls and then settled back on his stool. The alcohol was beginning to dull the world around him, and his back no longer throbbed with such demanding intensity. Odd as it may seem, the entire day had left him feeling unaccountably dispassionate. Actually, the entire group had seemed rather quiet for having preformed such an utterly extraordinary feat on the mountaintop.

It was probably just the shock and exertion. They'd all have a chance to marvel at the fact that they had killed a dragon once things had calmed down.

"How did we end up here?" Zevran asked quietly from his cot. "How did a failed assassin and a washed up warrior become part of a suicidal mission to save an entire country?"

Oghren took a sip of whiskey and glanced over at the elf. Zevran's eye was closed once more, and he seemed uncharacteristically serious. Shrugging slightly as he pondered the question, Oghren eventually just spread his hands.

"Dunno, just lucky I guess."

...

xxXxx

* * *

Oh, I can't tell you how good it felt to write an action scene. It was long past due. I'd love to hear how it worked for all of you.

The next chapter will jump ahead a little bit, and then the story will enter into its final arc. I haven't quite decided who I want to narratate the next chapter, but it will either be Kallian or Leliana. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really enjoyed reading your comments.

Till next time!


	35. Et Les Mots Croises

Chapter 35- Et Les Mots Croises

-Redcliffe-

* * *

xxXxx

...

The elf in Leliana's arms sighed softly in her sleep.

It was the barest of sounds, and it was only just discernable over the whistle and howl of the storm outside. Opening her eyes a fraction of an inch, Leliana checked to see if Kallian was awake. The other woman had been sleeping poorly over the last week and a half, and Leliana wanted her to get as much proper rest as possible. Once these scant few days at Castle Redcliffe were over, it would be a long time before any of them could relax.

Fortunately, it looked as though Kallian was still fast asleep. Stretching her legs underneath the covers, Leliana opened her eyes fully to take in the room that the two of them were sharing. Arl Eamon had been generous enough to provide everyone with their own quarters, but Leliana and Kallian had simply settled into the nicer of the two rooms they had been given. It wasn't exactly a new situation. The two of them had shared a tent ever since Haven, and Kallian had quickly stopped bothering to pitch her own whenever the party had stopped for the night.

Even so, the privacy and comfort of an actual room was a very pleasant change of pace. While Leliana liked to think she was made from sterner stuff than most women born into nobility, she had to admit that she had begun to miss some of the more basic creature comforts.

She imagined that it must be close to midday by now. Both she and Kallian had woken up several hours earlier, but they had never gotten around to actually getting out of bed. Instead, they had engaged in one of the liveliest bouts of morning sex that Leliana had ever experienced. Almost immediately afterwards, Kallian had closed her eyes and fallen into a deep sleep.

Leliana would have joined her, but sex had always left her feeling surprisingly energetic. In her opinion, making love was one of the most life-affirming things a person could do. Part of her wanted to go outside and experience the world in spite of the blizzard that was battering against the stone walls of the castle. On the other hand, she also wanted to lie in their warm bed and luxuriate in the simple pleasures of being alive and happy. After weighing each option for a time, she had allowed herself to be lulled into a light doze.

Kallian made another muted sound as she dreamed. They were both lying on their sides with their faces just a few inches apart. Kallian's lips were slightly parted, and Leliana could feel the whispers of the elf's breath on her neck every time Kallian exhaled. As she studied her lover's face, Leliana was mostly struck with how much younger Kallian looked when she was asleep. It was as if sleep had restored some of the innocence and fragility that a childhood in Denerim had stolen away.

Impulsively, Leliana took her right hand off of Kallian's naked thigh and brought it up to delicately rest between the elf's breasts. Keeping her touch light to avoid waking the other woman, she smiled when she felt Kallian's heartbeat underneath her palm. As always, it was slightly faster than a human's heartbeat would have been. Without quite knowing why, Leliana found this to be a source of endless fascination.

Things were going well between them. Since leaving Haven, they had fallen in an easy familiarity that smoothed many of the wrinkles in their relationship. For one thing, Leliana didn't feel like she was prying information out of Kallian every time they talked. When they finally had a minute to discuss what had happened in Andraste's temple, the elf had been uncharacteristically open about her conversation with her mother. It was a small indication that Kallian was finally beginning to trust her.

Of course, this just made Leliana feel even guiltier about the fact that _she_ was not being entirely upfront with Kallian.

Biting her lip, Leliana tried to rationalize her choice for what felt like the hundredth time. When they had spoken about it earlier in the week, she had told Kallian all of the details that were truly important. Her surreal conversation with Marjolaine had been unpleasant and jarring, but she had been more than willing to discuss it when Kallian had asked. It had been a little embarrassing to talk about how she had started crying like a child when it was all over, but Leliana had done so anyway.

The one thing she had left out of her account was that seeing Marjolaine had stirred up some long dormant feelings. Even after all the pain and hardship Marjolaine had caused, Leliana had felt her pulse quicken when her former master had appeared before her. Marjolaine still exuded that same magnetic attraction that had drawn Leliana to her all those years ago.

Leliana hadn't withheld that particular part of her story in an attempt to deceive Kallian. She had just been afraid that the elf would not understand that it hadn't meant anything. Leliana's reaction had simply been a confused reminder of something that no longer existed. She had spent many years completely enamored with Marjolaine, and the specter of that passion was not easily exorcized.

Yet, Leliana believed that Kallian would misconstrue things if she was to bring it up. Kallian had many lovely qualities, but level-headedness was not among them. She would end up being either angry or hurt because of something inconsequential. Besides, it was a personal matter, and Leliana didn't believe that she was obligated to share every passing thought that passed through her mind.

She sighed as she slowly pulled her hand off of Kallian's breast. Her musings had ruined the peaceful moment and left her feeling restless. It was tricky to ease out of bed without waking one's bedmate, but Leliana had received plenty of practice during her time as a bard. Carefully sliding out from beneath the covers, she lightly padded across the room to the armoire that the two of them were sharing.

Hurriedly, Leliana threw on a simple dress of pale-blue fabric that Bann Teagan had been thoughtful enough to provide. Her smallclothes had gotten tossed aside at some point last night, so she simply went without rather than risk waking Kallian by searching for them. Glancing at a gold-plated mirror that stood in one corner, Leliana used her fingers to comb her hair into a semblance of order.

Satisfied that she looked mostly presentable, she stepped into the pair of slippers Kallian had given her before walking back to the bed. Kallian had not even stirred throughout the entire process, and Leliana sat down on the edge of the bed with a faint smile. She might have woken the elf if she hadn't thought that Kallian needed all the sleep she could get. Several times over the last week, Leliana had woken up to find Kallian sitting up and staring off into nothing. Her dreams were becoming more frequent, and Kallian was starting to look drawn and haggard from the sleepless nights.

It was not just Kallian who was having dreams. Alistair had mentioned over breakfast one morning that he was suffering from nightmares regarding the Archdemon as well. He was taking this as a sign that the Darkspawn were readying themselves for something dramatic. Unfortunately, neither he nor Kallian had the experience to actually know what the dreams might foretell.

Leliana shook her head slightly and rose to her feet. Leaning over the sleeping elf, she gathered the fur blanket in her hands and tucked it over Kallian's bare shoulder. Without any further hesitation, she stepped away from the bed and made her way to room's solitary door. She was suddenly feeling hungry, and she hoped that there might still be some food available.

The hallway was drafty and cold as she made her way towards the main hall. Even though the kitchens were in the opposite direction, she had a feeling that breakfast was still being served for the Arl's knights. She could have sought out a servant and asked to have a meal delivered to her room, but she didn't want to trouble anyone. These days, the idea of having someone wait on her hand and foot made Leliana feel profoundly uncomfortable.

As she passed by one of the thick oak doors that lined the central hallway, Leliana half-turned when she heard raised voices. Pausing a moment as curiosity outweighed propriety, Leliana backtracked a few steps to stand beside the door from which the sounds were coming from. She recognized Alistair's smooth baritone immediately, but the heavy wood of the door muffled his words almost completely. Even so, Leliana could tell that he was in the midst of an argument.

Checking up and down the hallway to make sure that no one else was around, Leliana leaned her head forward so that her ear was pressed against the door. She knew that eavesdropping was a nasty habit, but only the Maker was free of sin. Straining her ears, she tried to focus on the words that were being said.

"No! I don't care what those papers say!" Alistair's voice was punctuated by a heavy bang as though someone had just slammed their fist on a table. "I don't want this."

A man's voice replied to him in a measured tone that didn't carry through the door. It sounded like the Arl, but Leliana couldn't be sure. Repositioning her head in the hopes of finding a better position, she listened carefully as Alistair made a sound of frustration.

"So what?" He muttered something that Leliana missed before raising his voice once more. "They'll never accept a bastard on the throne."

The other man's words were once again inaudible. A long silence followed, and then Alistair spoke up again. As he did, his voice grew progressively louder. Belatedly, Leliana realized that this was because he was walking towards her. "Enough Eamon, we can discuss this another—"

Leliana hurriedly backed away from the door just as it began to swing open. Alistair had his hand on the handle, and he abruptly broke off in midsentence when he saw Leliana standing in the hallway. Frowning at her, he tilted his head and gave her a questioning look. "…Leliana?"

"Oh, you startled me!" Leliana immediately recovered her composure with a quick, innocent smile. Coloring her tone with a hint of embarrassment, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and gestured at the hallway. "It's good that you are here though; I'm afraid I have gotten myself a little lost. I was hoping to find the kitchen."

Alistair's expression relaxed somewhat. "It's kind of a maze in here, isn't it? The kitchen's just down the hall to your left. I can have a servant take you there if you would like."

"No need," Leliana spoke quickly. "I'm sure I can find it myself. I was just looking for some breakfast before the cooks put all the food away."

"A sensible idea." The Arl of Redcliffe stepped up behind Alistair and gazed down at Leliana with a kind smile. "Now that you mention it, I have also not eaten this morning. Why don't you come with me and we can both find something in the main hall? Alistair, why don't you join us?"

Alistair glanced between Leliana and Arl Eamon for a few moments before slowly nodding. "Sure, I guess I missed breakfast as well."

"Splendid," The Arl offered Leliana his arm with a polite smile. "Forgive me _madame_, but I am ashamed to say that I must have forgotten your name. Old men such as myself are cursed with a failing memory, and such things happen more often than I would care to admit."

Leliana returned his smile with one of her own as she slipped her arm into his. "Considering the nature of our introduction, I can hardly blame you. My name is Leliana Demarais, ward to the Lady Cecile of Mont-de-Glace. If it would please Your Grace, you may simply call me Leliana."

Her surname was not really Demarais; Leliana hadn't told anyone her true surname in years. The only reason she even bothered to lie to the Arl was that decorum demanded she provide a full address. In any case, the Arl was unlikely to give it a second thought.

"A true pleasure to meet you, my lady." The Arl began to lead her down the hallway with Alistair trailing behind like a lost puppy. "I shall confess that it surprises me to learn that Alistair is traveling in such refined company. I expected a Grey Warden's companions to be of a rougher sort."

"I assure you, we have our fair share of roughness." Leliana matched step with the Arl and glanced back at Alistair. "Speaking of which, have you had the opportunity to check in on Zevran? The last I saw, he was looking significantly better."

Alistair had been watching the exchange between her and the Arl with something that looked like wariness. "I saw him this morning. He was walking without assistance, and he looked cheerful enough. For as much as he plays it down, Zevran's made of some pretty stern stuff."

The Arl heaved a tired sigh. "Alistair told me the story of your companion's injury. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all that you people have done for my house. Had it not been for all of you, I would never have woken, and my son would still be...unwell."

Leliana averted her eyes and spoke up hesitantly. "It was our pleasure to serve, Your Grace. I only regret that we could not save everyone. I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your Lady Wife."

"Thank you, my dear." Arl Eamon's face drew tight with pain for a brief moment before snapping back into rigid composure. "There will be time to mourn such losses later. For now, we must turn our attention to more immediate matters."

"You are referring to the Blight?"

"That is certainly a concern," He nodded in agreement. "At the moment however, I am more focused on the many things we must do before it comes time to face the Darkspawn. As you know, Ferelden is currently divided and under the rule of a man who is too stubborn to see reason. Loghain refuses help wherever it is offered, and his pride will leave us completely unprepared for the Archdemon's host. Before we can fight, we must find a way to remove him from power."

"I would think that will be very difficult considering that his daughter is the Queen."

"A queen without power is not a queen." The Arl's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "However clever Anora may be, she cannot escape the limitations of her gender. Ferelden is somewhat antiquated in its treatment of the fairer sex. We very nearly had a revolt when a woman was appointed Bann of Waking Sea. The only reason the Landsmeet hasn't assembled to discuss Anora replacement is that the Arls respect Loghain's authority. If he is removed, than Anora will not be able to stand in the way of our plans."

His last words prompted Leliana to ask the obvious question. "Forgive me if this is impertinent, but what plans are you referring to?"

"The only reasonable course of action that is available to us. We are going to place Alistair on the throne."

Behind them, Alistair muttered a half-formed objection under his breath. Leliana ignored him in favor of focusing her attention on the Arl. She was aware of the fact that Alistair had royal blood, but that was more of a curse than a benefit for him. The nobility prized the sanctity of their bloodlines, and as a result, bastards were often treated as little better than lepers. If Eamon was seriously considering putting him forth as Cailan's successor, then the Arl would have to find a way to make it palatable to the governing nobles.

Adding just the right amount of polite skepticism to her voice, Leliana cocked her head to one side and studied the Arl. "How can we-"

"Just a moment, my lady." The Arl held up a hand to stop her as they approached the door to the main hall. "Forgive my rudeness, but let us suspend this conversation until we are seated. I would feel better discussing things over a meal."

Leliana glanced back at Alistair to see if he was still behind them. Meeting her eyes, Alistair gave her a hangdog look and shook his head as though in denial. Smiling warmly in an attempt to lift his spirits, Leliana gracefully pulled her arm free from the Arl's grip as they passed into the main hall.

The big room was nearly empty save for a group of five knights who were eating at one of the long tables. At the Arl's entrance, they all rose to their feet respectfully. Waving them down with a paternal grin, Eamon led Leliana and Alistair over to a table set against the farthest wall. After pulling Leliana's chair out for her, the Arl moved around the table so that he was facing both of them.

With startling abruptness, several servants suddenly appeared at the side of the table with trays of food in hand. Placing them down without being prompted, the servants then quickly set a place for each of them. Leliana made a special point of thanking the elven boy who filled her glass with fresh milk. A youth of no more than thirteen years, the boy blushed hotly at her words and flashed her a bashful grin.

Leliana watched as the other servants finished laying out the meal. Back in Orlais, she had never given the elven servants much thought. They had always been part of the background even when they had been offering her a pastry or a fresh glass of wine.

The Arl smiled at a mousy-haired serving girl once they had finished. "Thank you, Marian. This looks quite lovely."

"You are most welcome, milord." Marian's eyes dropped down the tabletop in deference as she spoke. "May we get you anything else?"

"No, I think this will be plenty for the three of us." The Arl made a playful shooing gesture. "I'm certain that you have all been working hard considering how many guests we now have. Take a short respite if you would like. In fact, I insist."

Marian pulled her apron out into a rough approximation of a curtsy. "Thank you, milord."

"Think nothing of it, my dear."

The elves disappeared through a side door with unobtrusive haste. A moment later, the knights on the other side of the room all stood from their table and bowed to the Arl before leaving. It was such a coordinated exit that Leliana wondered if Arl Eamon had given some sort of signal that he wanted privacy. In any case, the three of them were now alone in the large hall.

As they began reaching for the various dishes, Leliana took a quick moment to study the Arl's features. She had seen many nobles in her lifetime, but Arl Eamon stood apart from the Orlesian gentry. Nearly a head shorter than Alistair, the Arl looked remarkably healthy for a man of his years. The prolonged sickness had left him gaunt and sallow-skinned, but his twinkling eyes betrayed the sharp mind behind them. Whereas Orlesian nobles traditionally went clean-shaved, the Arl sported an impressive beard that had mostly gone gray. In spite of the fact that he looked like someone's kindly grandfather, Leliana couldn't help but feel wary around him. Something about his impeccable manner and easy smiles reminded her strongly of herself.

"Now then, where were we?" The Arl breathed out an appreciative sigh as he served several fat sausages on Leliana's plate. "Ah yes, we were about to discuss the particulars of Alistair's succession. I am not sure if you were aware, but Alistair has a claim to the throne. He is the son of our late king Maric."

"The _illegitimate _son," Alistair stressed the word with an expression of distaste. "And Leliana already knows, Eamon. I told all of my companions several weeks ago."

Arl Eamon frowned at him. "That was rather rash of you. I thought that I expressed the importance of keeping your parentage a secret before you left for the Chantry. I suppose that it no longer matters considering what we are about to do, but perhaps you should have exercised some discretion. The appearance of a possible challenge to the throne would have surely galvanized Loghain into radical action."

"You're telling Leliana right now."

"Yes, because there is no longer any reason to avoid doing so. We will have to publicly announce you as Maric's blood if we are to stake a legitimate claim."

Alistair frowned deeply and started angrily shoveling some type of porridge into his mouth. Seeing an opportunity to interject, Leliana leaned forward and smiled at the Arl. "The fact that Alistair is illegitimate does raise some issues, Your Grace. His claim will appear relatively weak to the nobility. Do you truly believe that they will accept him over Anora?"

"I think they will." Eamon nodded thoughtfully. "As I said, Anora is not held in high esteem due to her gender. More than that, her family is of common blood. Had it not been for the instrumental role that Loghain played in the rebellion, he would have never received the lands and title that he currently holds."

Alistair snorted. "The nobles love Loghain. They think he's the hero that's going to save them from the Blight."

"Then we will have to discredit him." The Arl frowned slightly as he turned his gaze to Alistair. "Though that may sound difficult, I believe that we will find it easier than you might expect. My contacts in Denerim inform me that suspicions regarding Loghain's involvement in Cailan's death have begun to crop up all over the town. The nobility might forgive him for his common roots, but they will not turn a blind eye towards king-slaying."

"We can't prove that he betrayed Cailan. It's our word against his."

"That is true. If we were to accuse him of treason, it would look like an unsubstantiated attempt to stain his honor. At the moment, Loghain is viewed as a hero with Ferelden's best interests at heart."

"So, how are we supposed to get the nobility to turn on him?"

"There are some dark rumors filtering out of Denerim these days." The Arl gave them both a shrewd look. "Some people are saying that Loghain has locked his daughter away so that she will not publically challenge his decisions. There are disturbing reports of dissenting citizens suddenly disappearing without a trace. Loghain has declared a state of war, and his ruthlessness is beginning to worry many among the nobility. We will investigate each of these rumors, but the truly damning evidence can be found right here in Redcliffe."

Leliana cocked her head. "Evidence?"

Arl Eamon's eyebrows drew together sharply. "I'm referring to that snake of a blood mage who tried to murder my family. Loghain hired him, and he is willing to testify against our heroic Teyrn. It may not be a solid case, but all we are trying to do is undermine Loghain to the point where the nobility will no longer trust him."

Alistair rubbed his chin. "Loghain also hired Zevran to kill us. Maybe we can use him as well?"

"The fact that he has been traveling with you on his own volition is sure to raise eyebrows. In order to avoid arousing suspicion, I believe it would be best if your companion does not come forward."

"You may be right." Alistair drew his hand away from his face and fixed the Arl with a heavy stare. "That's not to say that I'm in agreement with the rest of this. I'm not fit to be king and I don't want to be. Even if I wasn't a bastard, I wouldn't be able to handle the power and responsibility that comes with ruling a country. I'm a Grey Warden first and foremost. That's enough for me."

The Arl set his fork down and folded his hands. "Perhaps, but it is not enough for Ferelden. Whether or not you choose to acknowledge it, you are the one person who could possibly stake a legitimate claim to the throne. I say this as a simple statement of fact. If you choose to run from your heritage, then you might as well have chosen to let Loghain have his way."

Leliana sat quietly as the two men stared at each other from across the table. This didn't feel like a conversation that should have an audience, and she was beginning to grow uncomfortable. There was a great deal of history between Alistair and the Arl, and the way they acted towards one another made her feel like an outsider intruding upon a conversation between a father and his son.

At length, Alistair dropped his gaze and released a sigh. "I need to think about this."

"You've been thinking about it for three days." The Arl's voice was dry. "Still, I suppose there is no rush. We won't be able to do anything until we arrive in Denerim. Take until then to consider what I have said. I would suggest talking it over with your fellow Warden."

Alistair nodded and then stared down at his plate as if it held some answers. Shifting about as a silence fell over the table, Leliana delicately cleared her throat before lifting her glass to take a sip of water. She didn't quite understand why the Arl had included her in this meeting, but it had proven to be very illuminating. The Arl was clearly no stranger to political maneuvering, and she now had a better idea of the type of man of he was. Arl Eamon was a crafty manipulator who knew that one could catch more flies with honey than vinegar. He was the type of person she would never have tried to con in her days as a bard.

She stroked the stem of her glass thoughtfully as she considered what had been said. "What would be needed in order for Alistair to be declared king?"

"That is a very good question. Ferelden has not seen a dispute over royal succession in nearly a century." Arl Eamon paused to take a small bite of a venison steak. "However, the actual mechanics of the process are relatively straightforward. We will first submit a formal claim to the Landsmeet that establishes Alistair's bloodline while simultaneously challenging Anora's legitimacy. The Landsmeet will then convene and we will be forced to publicly argue our case before the assembled Banns and Arls. Afterwards, a vote will commence to determine who the rightful successor will be."

Leliana thought that it sounded a little easy. "We just need a majority vote?"

"Not quite. Either party would need to secure at least five of the six votes in order to outright claim the throne."

Alistair raised his head at that. "What happens if neither of us can win that many votes? Does the throne just remain unclaimed until the nobles can make up their mind?"

"Odd as it may sound, that is exactly what happens." Arl Eamon smiled thinly at the expression that crossed over Alistair's face. "They are forced to remain in session until one faction can persuade the other to come around to their point of view. It sounds ridiculous, but split decisions in the Landsmeet are usually solved very quickly."

Leliana smirked. "I was not aware that there was such a thing as expediency when it comes to politics."

"I would ordinarily agree with you, my dear. However, the Landsmeet uses these meetings to their advantage." He made an encompassing gesture with his hands. "Suppose I want the Arl of West Hills to vote a certain way on tax legislation. I could argue fruitlessly for several hours, or I could offer him a piece of the trade contacts I have with Antiva. It would be considerably faster, and everyone would leave happy."

"Well, that sounds about right." Alistair looked torn between amusement and disgust. "The new king would be chosen based on what makes the nobility the happiest."

"Not necessarily. These matters can also be solved by martial trial."

"A duel?" Leliana couldn't keep the note of incredulity from her voice. "You cannot be serious."

"I am afraid that I am being entirely serious, my dear. Ferelden is not as enlightened as Orlais in some respects." His twinkling eyes smiled at her in spite of his words. "Still, I would not worry too much on that account. Both parties have to agree to the duel, and that is a rare occurrence in this day and age."

Alistair folded his arms. "I think we should do more than consider it. I don't see how we can win five votes without intervention from the Maker himself."

"Although I am a poor substitute for the Maker, I may have a way to win us unanimous support among the nobility." Eamon's smile faded as he glanced uncomfortably between the two of them. Sucking in a breath, he turned he met Leliana's eyes with a sad expression. "Actually, that is why I asked you to join us, my dear. This will concern you as well."

Utterly perplexed, Leliana tilted her head to one side in a polite motion. "I'm sorry Your Grace, but I am a little confused."

"Allow me to explain myself. At the moment, Queen Anora is occupying a very peculiar role in the government. In the time since Cailan's death, she had proven to be a remarkably capable ruler. The nobility cannot ignore this, but they are afraid to acknowledge her as the sole monarch."

Leliana felt a sharp smile spread across her lips. "A reasonable fear; place a woman in power and this country will be little more than rubble before week's end."

"I never said I agreed with it." The Arl made a pacifying gesture. "However, that is the way of things. Anora is well-liked and capable, but the nobles will not stand for an unmarried queen. The ideal situation in their minds is that Anora will remarry and rule jointly. The man who takes her as wife would surely court a great deal of favor by virtue of association."

Alistair picked up on what the Arl was suggesting a few seconds before Leliana did. Straightening upright in his seat, he gave Eamon a flat look. "Absolutely not."

"I thought you might say that." The Arl looked very tired as he motioned for Alistair to be silent. "I want you to consider something. A political marriage with Anora may very well be the only way to unify Ferelden's armies. You and your companions have done many things to prepare this country for the Darkspawn. If you do not take the throne, you could very well undo all of that work."

"She's the daughter of a traitor!" Alistair ground out the words from between clenched teeth. "Am I supposed to ignore what Loghain has done? Loghain killed my brother and every Grey Warden who stood with him. He poisoned you and sent assassins after me!"

The Arl shook his head. "Anora is not Loghain."

"That isn't the point! I won't go into Denerim and pretend that Loghain is anything other than a monster!"

"Alistair, I will put this into the plainest terms possible." Arl Eamon measured his words with quiet intensity. "What I am asking is that you make a necessary sacrifice in order to save every man, woman, and child in this country. If you are the kind of man I believe you to be, you will recognize that your desires matter very little in the face of such a thing."

For a moment, Leliana thought that Alistair would start screaming. His face had reddened to an alarming degree, and his large hands were bunched into fists. Gently reaching over, she covered one of his hands with her own. She didn't know what to say to man who had just had the rest of his life dictated to him, so she hoped this small display of support would be enough.

After a long pause, Alistair left out a long sigh. His face fell like a collapsing structure and he waved a hand tiredly. "Damn it all….fine, I'll do what you want Eamon. If it means stopping the Blight, I'll marry whoever I need to."

"I'm so sorry, my lad." The Arl glanced down at where Leliana's hand was resting over Alistair's. "I know this must be even more difficult considering your relationship with each other."

"It would be difficult even…"Alistair trailed off in midsentence. Cocking his head, he blinked a few times. "Wait, did you say 'relationship'?"

The Arl nodded slowly and gave Leliana a sad smile. "Yes, I know that the two of you are romantically involved. It is why I thought it best if you joined us for this conversation, my lady. There is no easy way to hear such things, but I was hoping that it would help if you understood why it will be necessary."

Feeling color rise up in her cheeks, Leliana withdrew her hand awkwardly. Next to her, Alistair sputtered for a moment before shaking his head emphatically. "What? Where did you get that idea from? Leliana and I are _not _in a relationship of any kind!"

The Arl gave him a knowing look. "If I am mistaken, then I truly apologize. I only mention this because I happened to overhear two of the servants conversing about your sleeping arrangements. They mentioned that our Orlesian guest spends her nights in the Warden's quarters. It may just be an idle rumor, but I have long since learned to value the idle chatter of my household staff."

Alistair bit his lip and gave Leliana a sheepish look. "Uhhh…."

Deciding that it would be best to save him from having to answer, Leliana nodded at Alistair to show that she would handle this. "Perhaps I can provide an explanation, Your Grace."

The Arl held up a hand. "You do not need to explain anything. Hard as it may be to believe, I was once young and energetic. I understand the power of young love, and it pains me that I must encourage events that will stand in the way of such a thing."

"I beg your pardon, but I am afraid that you do not quite understand." Leliana had to struggle to suppress her smile as she met the Arl's eyes. "Although you are correct to place value in the rumor, I'm afraid that you have the wrong Warden."

It took a moment for her meaning to register with the Arl. Although he was too well-mannered to show outright surprise, Leliana grinned when she saw his eyes widen with sudden realization. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, the Arl nodded. "Ah…the lady Kallian."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I see." Small spots of red had appeared on Eamon's cheeks. "Well, I suppose I should have inquired further before leaping to a conclusion. I simply thought that it would be improper for me to snoop behind your backs. Allow me to offer my sincerest apologies for placing you in such a position, my lady. It was terribly tactless of me."

Leliana smiled easily. "Think nothing of it, Your Grace. I have taken no offense."

The Arl nodded. "You are generous to say so. Although, I must ask that you not repeat what we have spoken of here. I had not intended it to be common knowledge to anyone who would not be personally affected by our course of action."

"You don't have to worry, Eamon." Alistair was looking more than a little amused by the Arl's misstep. "I trust Leliana implicitly. What's more, I plan to explain this to all of my companions soon enough."

"I beg your pardon?" The Arl gave Alistair a hard look. "That sounds terribly unwise. All it would take is a slip of the tongue to accidentally reveal our plans to the wrong sorts of ears. We are in a very delicate position at the moment."

"I trust them with this." Alistair's voice held no room for argument. "They have gone through a great deal to get to this point. I would not feel right keeping our plans hidden from them. If it would help, I'll make a special effort to stress the importance of keeping this to ourselves."

Arl Eamon frowned sharply and studied Alistair for a few long moments. It looked as though he wanted to reprimand Alistair but was unwilling to do so in Leliana's presence. Finally, the Arl set down his fork and rose from the table. "I hope you reconsider. My lady, it was a pleasure to be in your company. Now, if you will both excuse me, several of my knights are expecting me in a conference."

After bowing to Leliana, the Arl traded a nod with Alistair and turned to leave the room. Once the Arl had exited via the main doors, Leliana turned to Alistair with a smirk. Even though he was going through a rough period, she couldn't resist a little teasing. "Thank the Maker he believed that. Ours is a fragile love; I do not think it would stand up to inspection."

Alistair cracked a smile. "I think Eamon was actually a little disappointed. He's a terrible gossip."

"Is he really? I never would have thought." Leliana paused long enough to eat a slice of bacon. The servants had set a veritable feast before them, and she figured that she might as well put it to some use.

"Oh yes, there's nothing he loves more than a good secret."

His words held a bitter note that made Leliana look up from her food. Feeling a guilty flush as she realized that she had forgotten about Alistair's feelings in the face of everything else, Leliana gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Alistair, I can't imagine how you must feel about this. It's so very sudden."

"Believe me, today has been one of the most surreal and unpleasant days of my entire life." Alistair made an exasperated sound before fishing something out of his money purse. After a moment, he held out a small object for her inspection. "Finding out that I'm supposed to marry Anora was bad enough, but I've also got this blighted mystery to figure out."

Curious, Leliana leaned in to discover that he was holding a carved figurine. It depicted a bipedal creature with enormous shoulders and spiky outcroppings growing from the crown of its head. While the level of detail was astonishing, Leliana thought that the statue was actually quite revolting. The creature's porcine features were twisted into a hateful grimace, and its muscular physique was developed to the point of being grotesque. Unsure of what to say, she drew back and gave Alistair a hesitant look.

"Errm…it's very…nice?"

He chuckled. "You don't have to lie; I know it's hideous. Morrigan gave it to me this morning."

"Morrigan?" Leliana cocked a brow in puzzlement. The statue was odd enough in its own right, but the fact that the witch had given it to Alistair added an entirely new layer of complexity to the entire thing. "Do you know why?"

"She didn't say." Alistair pulled a face. "An hour before dawn, she just starts banging on my door until I got out of bed and opened it. Next thing I know, she's shoving this little monster into my hands and telling me to take it. Then, she just walks away like nothing happened"

The mental picture of a sleep-addled Alistair standing in his doorway with the statue in hand made Leliana giggle. Fighting to regain her composure, she gestured at the monstrous figurine. "Why in the world would she give you something like that?"

"Dunno, but knowing her it's probably the beginnings of a nasty curse or something." Alistair sighed theatrically. "I bet it's going to make me impotent."

"I thought that Grey Wardens were already impotent."

"The joke's on her then."

Leliana laughed easily. It had been far too long since she had seen any hint of Alistair's friendly wit. "Maybe you should just ask her about it."

"Maker knows that would save me the trouble of guessing." Alistair scrutinized the statue with a critical eye before shrugging. "If nothing else, I want to know where she got this from. Do you see all these details? I don't even think it's possible to carve something like this."

"Perhaps it is a form a magic?"

"If it is, I've never heard of anything like it."

They fell silent as Alistair stared at the statue and Leliana focused on her meal. It was odd to be the only ones in such a large room, but Leliana felt at ease. As she finished her bacon and moved onto a piece of toasted bread, Alistair heaved a sigh and stood up from the table.

"Well, I think I'll go see if I can find Morrigan. I feel like I should be prepared if she's about to work some kind of demon magic on me or whatnot."

Leliana glanced at the considerable amount food that was still on the table. "You aren't going to eat anything? I would hate to leave this all to waste."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Alistair smirked and gestured at the veritable feast. "Eamon always has the cooks make a ton of food for his meals. He never eats it all, so the servants get the rest. I've asked why he doesn't just give them the fancy food directly, but he always says something about how this way is better. Only the Maker can guess what he's thinking sometimes."

Nodding to show that she understood, Leliana bid him farewell and watched as he made his way out of the main doors. Polite society would consider it rude to leave a lady alone to dine, but Leliana didn't mind. Both Alistair and the Arl had a lot on their minds, and she had been planning on eating alone when she had left her room.

Feeling indulgent, Leliana took her glass of milk and added a dollop of honey in order to sweeten it. She hadn't had honeyed-milk since she was a child back in Orlais. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a long, slow sip in order to savor the sweet flavor. Closing her eyes, she let the taste bring her back Lady Cecile's warm kitchen with its—

A voice abruptly sounded behind her. "Hey there."

Leliana's eyes snapped open and she narrowly avoided spewing milk all over the Arl's hall. Bring the back of her hand up to her mouth, Leliana hurriedly twisted around in her seat. Ignoring her racing heartbeat, she glared at the new arrival.

Kallian was dressed in her leather breeches and a green tunic that complimented her eyes. Although she was clearly trying to appear innocent, Leliana could see the beginnings of a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"You enjoy doing that," Leliana narrowed her eyes in accusation. "Don't you?"

The elf gave a careless shrug. "Hey, you tell stories and I sneak. Everybody's got a hobby."

"My stories do not involve scaring people."

"Then you need some better stories." Kallian gave her an impish grin as she slid into the chair next to Leliana. "Maybe throw in a few dragons or something."

Taking in a long breath to steady herself, Leliana shook her head with a smile. Kallian was in one of her mischievous moods, and her good humor was infectious. Gesturing at the empty hall around them, Leliana watched as the elf helped herself to some of the food in front of her. "Where in the world did you even come from?"

"Servant's entrance."

Glancing at the side door, Leliana raised a brow. "Just to scare me?"

"Dunno, I not much of a planner." Kallian reached over and deftly took the glass of honeyed-milk from Leliana's hand. Flashing Leliana a coy look over the rim of the glass, Kallian took a long sip before setting it down. "Why didn't you wake me before you left?"

"I thought you could use the extra sleep." Leliana retrieved her stolen milk with a small smile. "You were dead to the world when I woke up. I thought you'd be asleep for several hours more."

Kallian's blew out a breath. "If only."

"More dreams?"

"Yeah, it was that same one as before." Kallian slowly chewed a mouthful of food and gave Leliana a speculative look. "It's starting to freak me out that I'm having the same dream over and over. Ever since we left Haven, it has been recurring ever single night."

"Perhaps it means something." Leliana propped her elbow against the table and rested her chin in her palm. "Alistair is having nightmares as well. He claims that they are the result of the bond between Grey Wardens and the Darkspawn. Maybe your dreams are also related."

Kallian shrugged. "I thought of that. The problem with that is my dreams don't have anything to do with the Archdemon. It's always just me and some woman who looks like me."

"Does she ever tell you things?"

"Sometimes, but I mostly forget the words by the time I wake up." Kallian gave a frustrated shake of her head. "I don't know, it's just some stupid nightmare. Let's talk about something else…like what you were doing with Alistair and the Arl?"

Leliana peered at her suspiciously. "How did you know that I was with them?"

"The Arl told me." Kallian jerked a thumb over her shoulder in a vague gesture. "I met him in the hallway and he said I could find you here."

"Ah, that explains it." Leliana settled back in her chair and watched as Kallian ate with a distressing lack of table manners. "The Arl invited me to join the two of them for breakfast. We discussed some of the plans that he and Alistair have come up with for dealing with Loghain. Specifically, those that involve placing Alistair on the throne."

She had expected the news to elicit a shocked response, but Kallian simply gave a small nod. "Oh yeah, pretty crazy huh?"

"You knew?" Leliana stared at Kallian in indignant outrage. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Alistair only told me yesterday, and I did try to tell you last night." Kallian's lips curved up into a wolfish grin. "It's not my fault that you didn't want to do much talking once we were alone."

Leliana rolled her eyes. "I might have. If you had mentioned that you had something so important to say,"

"Yeah, but I liked the alternative."

Smirking, Leliana folded her arms and acknowledged the elf's argument with a small nod of her head. She was slightly disappointed that Kallian had already heard the news. Leliana liked telling people about dramatic secretes almost as she liked hearing about them.

Kallian finished off a piece of toast and turned to face Leliana. "I was going to go check on Zevran. Do you want to come along?"

"That sounds nice." It wasn't like Leliana had much else to do in the castle. "He must be rather bored lying in bed all day."

Kallian laughed aloud as she stood up. Offering a hand to help Leliana out of her seat, the elf shook her head in amusement. "Are you kidding? He's been telling the story about how he saved us all from the dragon to every serving-girl who will stop to listen. Last I saw, he had a veritable harem cooing about how brave he is."

Taking the offered hand, Leliana allowed Kallian to pull her from her seat. Going along with the motion, Leliana stepped close to the shorter woman and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Well then, we should get going immediately. We wouldn't want to miss our chance to swoon over the injured hero."

"I don't think I've ever swooned over anything before." Kallian sounded distracted as her eyes dropped to Leliana's chest. "Say…are you wearing anything underneath this?"

Leliana raised a brow. "I was in a rush to get dressed."

"That's interesting." A mischievous look crossed over the elf's face as she gestured to the door. "You know, if you want to skip the whole 'Zevran' thing…"

"You're incorrigible."

Kallian blinked. "I have no idea what that means."

"I'll explain on the way to_ Zevran's _room." Leliana put special emphasis on the assassin's name as she began walking across the hall. "Now come on."

As Kallian hurried to catch up to her, Leliana idly noted that the elf was barefoot. It was probably to facilitate sneaking, and Leliana would have bet any amount of gold that Kallian had a set of lock-picks on her somewhere. She didn't think Kallian was planning on stealing something from the Arl, but she also would not put it past the elf.

Once inside the main hallway, Leliana headed to the right and made her tone casual. "So, what do you think of the Arl?"

"I like him." Kallian spoke matter-of-factly. "I talked to some of the servants, and they say he's good people. Plus, he's got some great jokes."

"Jokes?" Leliana was sure she had heard incorrectly.

"Oh yeah, he told me this one about a Chantry brother and a bull that was just amazing. Wanna hear it?"

"Another time perhaps," Leliana ran a hand through her hair. "I was just asking because something about him makes me uncomfortable. Do you ever get the feeling that he's just trying to measure you up every time you speak with him?"

Kallian seemed to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "I've never picked up on anything like that, but then again, I'm pretty sure he doesn't take me all that seriously. Whenever we are talking, I think he starts using smaller words. It's a little irritating, but I prefer it to that flowery nonsense he uses whenever he talks to the rest of you."

Leliana smirked. "I can see that you are made for politics."

"There's nothing I would hate more." Kallian grinned and then slowed to a stop. Glancing around for a moment, the elf turned back to Leliana with raised brows. "Does this particular stretch of hallway seem familiar to you?"

Following the elf's example, Leliana examined the passage closely. It took her a moment or two to realize what Kallian was referring to, but when she did, Leliana chuckled softly. "Oh yes, this was where Alistair and Morrigan stumbled upon us the last time we were here. My, but that was an embarrassing little moment, wasn't it?"

"The 'discovery' part wasn't great," Kallian took two steps closer to Leliana and looked up at her through her lashes. When she spoke, her raspy voice dipped into a sultry tone. "As for everything leading up to that...well, I have fond memories."

Deciding to play along, Leliana scrunched up her brow in an elaborate pantomime of confusion. "Do you? I can't seem to remember what happened."

"Really?"

"I'm afraid so," Leliana shrugged apologetically. "Perhaps you should remind me."

Kallian smiled her crooked smile and reached out a hand to interlace her fingers in Leliana's. Walking backwards, Kallian gently tugged Leliana along until the elf's back was pressed against the stone wall of the hallway. Smirking up at Leliana, she made a sound of consideration. "Let's see, I think we started off like this. You were a little closer though…"

"Are you sure about that?" Leliana obediently moved forward to close the distance between them. "This really does not seem like something a respectable Chantry Sister would do."

Kallian shrugged and looped her arms around Leliana's hips. "True, but you aren't a Chantry Sister."

"I could have been!" Leliana mock-gasped and held up her thumb and forefinger in a pinching gesture. "I was _this_ close to taking my vows."

"Wow, that almost counts."

Shaking her head mournfully, Leliana released a theatrical sigh. "You are a cruel woman."

Kallian chuckled in response and tilted her head up to plant a soft kiss against Leliana's lips. Humming her approval without pulling away, Leliana raised her hands to grasp the elf's upper arms. Kallian's soft body felt wonderful pressed up against her, and Leliana was more than willing to lose herself in the sensation.

Sooner than she would have expected, Kallian broke the kiss with an abrupt motion. Blinking a few times, the elf glanced up at her. "Hey, do you hear that?"

"Hmm?" Leliana strained her ears, but she couldn't hear anything aside from their breathing. "No, what is it?"

"I dunno, it's like whispering or something." Kallian tilted her head to one side before shrugging. "Ah hell, it doesn't matter. Let's get back to remembering."

Leliana could not have asked for a better invitation. Claiming Kallian's mouth with a searing kiss, Leliana slid one of her hands underneath the elf's shirt to play along the skin of her stomach. It must have tickled, because Kallian laughed into the kiss and tried to jerk back.

Unwilling to let her escape, Leliana forced one of her legs in between Kallian's and groaned when the elf rubbed against her. Breathing hard as she finally tore away from the kiss, Leliana allowed herself a second's respite before darting forward to kiss along the side of Kallian's neck.

"Hey, are you—" Kallian broke off with a shuddering gasp when Leliana softly bit at the delicate skin. "Are you…are you seriously not hearing this?"

Pausing in confusion, Leliana lifted her head and tried to listen. It was difficult to focus considering her present circumstance, but she listened carefully for any sound. Shaking her head after a moment, she felt herself growing impatient. "I don't hear anything."

"It's definitely voices." Kallian frowned in concentration. "I just can't tell where it's coming from."

Leliana made a dismissive sound. "It's probably just a few servants talking in one of the room. Now hush before I regain my sense of propriety."

She wasted no time in drawing the elf into another kiss. Kallian seemed a little distracted, but Leliana had more than a few tricks for reclaiming her attention. Raising her right hand, she gently stroked along the soft lobe of Kallian's ear. She expected Kallian to shiver like she usually did, but the elf went perfectly still in her arms and stopped responding to the kiss.

Pulling back, Leliana growled in frustration. "Alright, let's go find this sound of yours if it's so—"

Leliana's words died in her throat when she got a good look at Kallian. The elf's body had gone as stiff as a statue, and her face was devoid of even the slightest hint of emotion. When Leliana met Kallian's gaze, she felt an icy shiver zip down her spine. Kallian's eyes were as flat and dead as a corpse's.

Rearing her head back a few inches, Leliana stared at the elf in dumbfounded silence before finding her voice. "…Kallian?"

Quicker than a thought, Kallian abruptly exploded into motion. Before Leliana even knew what was happening, the elf had swept her feet out from under her. Gasping in surprise as her back connected the stone floor, Leliana instinctively tried to roll away in order to escape the unexpected attack. Flopping onto her stomach, she pressed her hands against the floor and tried to push herself back to her feet.

All the breath was driven from her lungs when Kallian's knee slammed into the center of her back. Collapsing back down onto her belly, Leliana groaned as the elf's slight weight pinned her to ground. Hands like iron suddenly wrapped around the wrist and elbow of her right arm, and she cried out in pain as the trapped limb was violently wrenched up between her shoulder blades.

The hand holding her elbow withdrew, and Leliana's heart skipped a beat when she heard the unmistakable sound of a knife sliding from its sheath. Struggling against the elf's impossibly unyielding grip, Leliana finally regained her breath long enough to call out. "Kallian stop!"

Silence followed her outburst. Going still in Kallian's hold, Leliana drew short, frightened breaths as the seconds ticked by. Fully expecting to feel the cold touch of a knife at any moment, she tried to turn her head in order to get a glimpse of Kallian face. In response to the motion, the elf twisted Leliana's wrist sharp enough to make her scream. Forcing herself to go still in spite of the burning pain in her wrist, Leliana tried not to panic. "Kallian, for the Maker's sake! You're hurting me!"

There was a very long pause in which each of Leliana's heartbeats felt like an eternity. Then, in a moment of blessed relief, the agonizing pressure finally eased as Kallian released her tortured arm. Gasping for a lungful of air as the elf took her knee off of her back, Leliana hurried to get away in case Kallian wasn't done.

She reached the far wall and used it to support herself as she scrambled to stand up. Whirling around as soon as she had gotten to her feet, Leliana took deep, panting breaths as she stared at the elf across from her. Kallian had also stood, but she was simply watching Leliana with her hands dangling loosely at her sides. In one hand, she was still clutching a slim dagger.

"K-Kallian," Leliana's voice was shaky when she spoke. "Put the knife down."

Kallian stared at her without comment. Meeting the elf's gaze, Leliana felt a moment of animalistic terror at the sheer emptiness behind Kallian's eyes. There was nothing of the woman she knew.

She repeated herself slowly. "Kallian... you need to put the knife down."

Leliana flinched out of reflex when the elf raised the knife in front of her. Staring at it with an odd sort of disinterest, Kallian abruptly let it fall from her fingers to clatter against the stone floor. Ignoring the weapon, Kallian turned her attention back to Leliana. A vacant smile played across her lips for a brief moment before the elf's eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Collapsing like a stalk of felled wheat, the elf crumpled to the floor and lay unmoving.

Stunned by what had just happened, Leliana could only stare down at Kallian in numb horror. The sound of voices made her look up in time to see Alistair round the corner with Morrigan fast on his heels. Drawing up short when he caught sight of Leliana and Kallian, Alistair looked between them in bafflement. "We heard screaming. What in the world happened?"

Peeling herself off of the wall, Leliana slowly walked over to where Kallian was lying in a heap. Stopping a few feet away from her, Leliana looked back and gave Alistair a helpless look.

"I honestly don't know."

...

xxXxx

* * *

Big thanks to my beta Gorg for helping me change around the final scene. I apologize for the delayed update, but I had midterms, travel, and now a very nasty illness. It all came together to create a perfect storm of not writing.

From here on out, we will be getting into the final segment of the fic. I'm pretty excited because I've been wanting to write every single Denerim chapter since beginning this monster. Anyway, thanks very much to everyone reading and that goes double for those of you kind enough to leave a review.

Until next time.


	36. Emerging

Chapter 36-Emerging

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

...

Kallian flinched as the circle of rounded metal tightened against her throat.

"Maker's breath, would you please hold still?" Wynne's irritated voice came from over her shoulder. "This is hard enough without you squirming about like a child."

Gasping out a choked apology, Kallian squared her shoulders and tried not to fidget. She wanted to make things easy for Wynne, but it was hard to sit still when it felt like someone was trying to throttle the life out of her. Focusing on the painting that hung in front of her, Kallian did her best to ignore what was going on.

In spite of the fact that it had been resting against her skin for at least an hour, the bronze ring around her neck still felt cold. It was about as thick around as her forefinger, and its surface was inscribed with an unbroken chain of jagged symbols. The necklace had no latches; just a simple partition where the two arms of the collar bent a few inches back on themselves. Before Wynne had started fitting it in place, Kallian had actually liked the look of the thing. However, after being strangled all afternoon, she was of the opinion that there wasn't a more hateful piece of metal in all of Thedas.

"Oh for the love of..." Wynne trailed off with a frustrated growl. A moment later, the uncomfortable pressure of the collar loosened. "This is not working. Let's try to see if I can fasten this from the front. If that doesn't work out, we'll have to abandon this for now. Alistair is expecting us in a half-hour."

Kallian gently rubbed at her sore neck. The way this was going, she'd have some interesting bruises in a few hours. "Does it have to be so tight?"

"Every inch of the inner band must be pressed against your skin at all times." Wynne forced the necklace open and slipped it off of Kallian's neck. "When the aegis was designed, its maker did not have comfort in mind. Just be thankful that I rounded the metal. The original design had _edges_."

There was a rustle of motion as the mage stood up from where she had been sitting behind Kallian. Moving around so that she was facing Kallian head-on, Wynne took a moment to run her fingers over the strange glyphs that she had carved. Kallian watched her for a moment before taking the opportunity to stretch out her stiff muscles. They had been at this for what felt like an eternity, and Kallian was feeling tense and achy.

That wasn't to say that she was ready to quit. She would gladly sit in this room all week if it meant that Wynne's device would work. Ever since they had left Redcliffe, she'd been constantly tormented by the insidious whispers of her own insanity. Alternating between distinct and sub-vocal utterances, the whispering sounded like a chorus of voices all speaking in some foreign language. It was ever-present. Even now, sitting in one of the plush guestrooms of the Arl's estate in Denerim, she could hear the faint murmurs gathering like cobwebs in the corners of the room.

She forced herself not to look around for their source. The first few days, she had spent futile hours trying to figure out which direction the whispering was coming from. The only thing she had to show for her efforts was a great deal of frustration and fear. Now, she simply focused on the breathing exercises that Wynne had taught her in an attempt to calm her mind.

It helped, but not much.

The whispers were only one part of what plagued her. They were accompanied by a phantom presence that always seemed to lurk in the back of her mind. It was a nebulous sensation, a bit like having a stranger read over one's shoulder. Although Kallian didn't like to think about it, she occasionally felt like someone else was looking out at the world through her eyes.

Kallian was frightened. She had tried her best to keep her composure, but the truth was that she had spent every waking moment terrified that she'd have another episode. There had almost been no warning back at Redcliffe, and Leliana had nearly lost her life because of it. The only thing that kept Kallian from outright panicking was the feeble hope that Wynne had offered her.

With that thought in mind, Kallian glanced down at Wynne's hands. "So, tell me again: how is thing going to help?"

"I can't say with any certainty that it will." Wynne's eyes darted up to meet Kallian's gaze before dropping back down to her work. "I've never treated anyone with your condition before. All I do know is that during your recovery from the incident, the Fade was somehow present in your mind. As that is the only symptom I have observed, I can only assume that your mental lapse was the direct result of this connection."

Kallian nodded slowly. "I'm following so far.""

"Are you now?" Wynne laughed softly and lifted the necklace up so that it caught the torchlight "That reassuring to hear, because you are single-handedly undermining everything I know about magic. Until I met you, I was under the impression that only mages should be able to directly interact with the Fade. Were we in a different place and time, I would jump at the opportunity to study you."

"…Uh, thanks?"

Wynne rolled her eyes. "However, since we are not, I've simply come up with a temporary solution. As your unusual connection to the Fade is causing your condition, it would stand to reason that severing that connection would be the proper course of action. Hopefully, this will allow us to do so."

She held up the necklace and motioned for Kallian to put it on. Forcing the stiff arms of the metal ring open, Kallian slid it around the back of her neck with a grimace. It stopped short of restricting her breathing, but the necklace was hardly comfortable.

Kallian fingered the curve of the metal in the spot where it touched against her pulse. "Is that gonna hurt?"

"I honestly have no idea. It's been almost a century since anyone has made a Harthman's Aegis." Wynne motioned for Kallian to pinch the ends of the necklace together. "Most mages have probably never even heard of one. The only reason I know of them is because they came up while I was researching my dissertation. You're fortunate that I took an interest."

"A century?"

"Oh yes. Harthman wanted to find an alternative to the Rite of Tranquility. He succeeded in many respects." She gave a distracted huff and lifted her hands to help Kallian readjust her grip on the necklace. "When properly crafted, the device completely isolates the wearer from the Fade."

"So why didn't—"

Wynne held up a hand to forestall Kallian's question. "Shh! That's perfect! Hold it right there!"

Kallian immediately shut her mouth and focused on not moving her fingers in the slightest. Not even daring to draw her next breath, Kallian watched as Wynne placed both of her forefingers on either side of the necklace. The mage took a long breath and let it out slowly.

"This sequence is rather simple to inscribe, but it is fiendishly difficult to pronounce." Wynne drew herself up and adopted a look of perfect concentration. "Let's just hope that my memory is as good as I would like to believe. Make sure you don't move."

With that, the elderly mage began to speak in a language that no human voice should have been able to produce. It was an odd, warbling sound that sunk into guttural tones before abruptly shifting into something soft and elegant. Drawing her fingers along the length of the collar in a slow movement, Wynne stared straight ahead as her voice rose and fell with the bizarre chant. Unnerved by the entire experience, Kallian bit her lower lip and held as still as she possibly could.

After nearly a minute of this, Wynne finally withdrew her hands and fell silent. The last discordant syllable of her chant hung in the air like a poorly-received joke. Holding her breath as she waited for something to happen, Kallian's heart fell when she realized that the whispers were still there. With a heavy sigh, she slumped forward in her chair and lifted her hands to rub at her temples.

"Damn."

Wynne groaned and drew her hand across her forehead. "I spoke it perfectly. I must have overlooked some part of the _sigillum_."

"I won't even pretend to know what that means. Thanks for trying…" Kallian paused as a weird little tingle suddenly shot through her system. It felt like tiny mice were scampering along her skin. "Uh, Wynne? Something is definitely happening over here."

Before she could explain any further, the ends of the collar abruptly snapped together. Intense energy coursed through her body, and then every single one of her muscles seemed to simultaneously seize up. Yelping in surprise, she lurched violently and toppled backwards over the wooden chair she had been using. There wasn't any pain, but the unexpected shock made her flail instinctually. Scrabbling to her feet with one hand pressed against her racing heart, Kallian stared wide-eyed at Wynne as the surprise gradually faded away.

"So," Wynne gave her a wry smile. "I take it that we just had some success."

Kallian froze in place and strained her ears. At first, she was convinced she still heard something, but then she realized that it was just her imagination. The whispers were gone, and the shadowy presence in her mind had vanished with them.

She felt a hesitant smile spreading across her lips. "I think…I think it worked!"

"Well, thank the Maker for that." Wynne clucked her tongue and stood up from her stool. "If it hadn't, I'd be out a week's work and four sovereign's worth of bronze."

Relieved beyond words, Kallian impulsively stepped forward and flung her arms around the elderly mage in a tight hug. Wynne stumbled at first, but then she chuckled and patted Kallian on the back. "Alright, alright, these old bones can't take this type of punishment."

Abashed, Kallian quickly released Wynne and ran her fingers along the necklace. "How long will this last?"

"Bronze isn't the best medium for enchantment, but it is pretty close." Wynne waved her hand in the air. "If I had to guess, it will hold the spell for a little over a year."

Kallian perked up at that. She had been resigned to losing her mind ever since the breakdown with Leliana. It looked like Wynne had solved all of her problems. "Can you make me another one? Once this one is all used up, I mean."

Wynne looked uncomfortable. "I could, but I think you have the wrong idea, Kallian. This isn't a solution to your problem."

"Why not?" Kallian touched the aegis for emphasis. Her fear had vanished with the surprising success, and she was almost feeling euphoric. "You said it yourself: so long as the Fade can't touch me, I won't go insane. All I have to do is keep wearing one of these and I'm in the clear."

"I'm afraid it's not quite as simple as you make it out to be." Wynne sat back down in her stool and motioned for Kallian to get back in her own chair. "You cannot just go the rest of your life without interacting with the Fade."

"Sure I can. I went eighteen years without ever even knowing about the damn place."

"No, you didn't." Wynne gave her a tight smile. "Let me try to explain something. Every day that you are alive, you breathe air, you drink water, and you eat plants and animals. Your body even needs some of the minerals that are found in the earth. Whether or not you've ever stopped to think about it, almost every aspect of this world is crucial to survival. So it is with the Fade."

Kallian frowned. "What do I need the Fade for?"

"No one knows for certain; although there are many theories." Wynne shrugged her shoulders. "Some say that our souls are tied to the Dreaming Realm, others claim that we receive some type of life-giving energy when our sleeping minds touch the Fade. Regardless of what you believe it to be, all evidence suggests that the Fade lends us some form of anima; some crucial element that makes us what we are."

Vaguely aware of where this was going, Kallian held up a hand. "Let me guess: wearing this thing keeps me from getting that crucial element."

"Precisely." The mage nodded her head in agreement. "Although the Rite of Tranquility is not a kind fate, it does not completely seal off a mage from the Fade. The Tranquil still have a presence in the Fade even if their humanity is stripped from them. Originally, the Harthman Aegis was meant to be an alternative. The reason it never became popular was that it starved the wearer of the Fade's presence. It may have allowed the Chantry to subdue a dissenting mage without obliterating his identity, but it also leads to an inexorable death."

"Lovely."

Wynne smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I don't have better news. What I can promise you is that if we both survive what is to come, I will do everything in my power to find you a more permanent solution."

"I really appreciate that." Kallian tried not to let her disappointment show. It seemed like every time she was about to catch a break, something new swooped in to announce her eventual demise. Fingering the aegis with rueful tenderness, she glanced up at Wynne. "So, how much time did this buy me?"

"Symptoms of the withdrawal typically set in after four to six months." Wynne's voice became clinical and rehearsed. "If the aegis is not removed, you will rapidly degenerate. You will first lose your emotions and critical reasoning, followed by intense apathy. You will lose the will to either eat or move. Death typically occurs by the seventh month."

"But if I take the aegis off before that…?" Kallian let her words taper off into a question.

"Provided you allow yourself to be exposed to the Fade for several months afterwards, there should be no ill-effects."

"I see."

In the silence that followed, Kallian felt the unreasonable urge to laugh. She was strongly reminded of her father's favorite idiom: "Damned if you do, damned if you don't". No matter what she did, this curse in her blood was going to be the death of her. When Wynne had told her that there might be a way to curb her condition, Kallian had allowed herself to hope. In the end, all the treatment had done was buy her a few more months before she'd have to choose one type of madness over another.

That is, assuming she didn't end up with a Darkspawn's blade in her gut.

It was a depressing slew of thoughts, but Kallian was surprised to find that she wasn't too upset. A part of her had been preparing for this ever since speaking with Zathrian, and the certainty of it all was bizarrely comforting. Chances were that she would end up dying when the Archdemon launched its attack, so worrying about an unlikely future seemed pointless. Even if she somehow survived, she now had a few extra months to make her peace with everything.

"Thanks, Wynne." Kallian drew in a stabilizing breath and smiled at the mage. "Even if this can't be cured, at least now I can face it on my own terms."

"Do you wish to tell the others?"

"Only the ones who already knew about it." Kallian tried to shrug it off. "There's no need to bring the rest of them into this. My problems aren't important enough to worry about right now. After the Blight runs its course, I'll just go back to being another elf. I'll deal with this then."

Wynne's eyebrows drew together and she gave Kallian a concerned look. Tentatively raising her hand, Wynne softly patted Kallian's hair in a way that felt almost maternal. "You really shouldn't talk like that, you know. You're a Grey Warden, and many would say that makes you a hero."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Wynne gave her a slight smile. "And in every good story I've ever heard, the hero lives happily ever after."

Kallian chuckled. "You must not have heard many elven legends."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because then you'd know that all of our heroes are dead."

…

xxXxx

Several minutes later, Kallian and Wynne exited the guestroom that they had been using for privacy. The Arl's estate in Denerim was large and very roomy, but it still felt cramped and hectic with all the people running about inside. In addition to Kallian's companions, the estate currently housed fifty of the Arl's knights as well as a considerable staff of servants. On top of all of this, messengers and couriers bustled about as the result of Arl Eamon trying to get into contact with every noble and high-standing merchant in the city.

As the two of them weaved through the chaos, Kallian overheard two of the Arl's servants bickering over some minor issue regarding the evening's meal. It was refreshing to hear the hum of ordinary life, and Kallian felt slightly better for just being around other people. She had mostly kept to herself since Redcliffe.

The Arl's study lay at the very back of the estate. Alistair hadn't been clear as to why they were all meeting up, but Kallian was willing to bet that it had something to do with overthrowing Loghain. It was all he had talked about on the way to Denerim. Although Kallian also wanted to see Loghain get what he deserved, Alistair was beginning to seem a little obsessive in her opinion.

Two guards were standing outside of the door leading into the Arl's study. As they approached, both men came to stiff attention. Wynne brushed off the formality with a small nod, but Kallian couldn't help but feel weird as she passed in between the two soldiers. It definitely wasn't the type of thing she was used to.

The Arl's study was a circular room with large bookcases covering the walls. A bear-skin rug was laid out on the floor, and a small fire crackled merrily in the stone fireplace behind the desk. The most impressive part of the room was the chandelier that hung overhead. Made from stones that had been enchanted somehow, the chandelier's crystal arms cast an unwavering light over the entire space. Kallian didn't even want to think about how much something like that had cost.

Alistair was the only one in the room. He stood behind a mahogany desk set in the middle of the room and was studying a scrap of paper with such intense concentration that he didn't even look up as they entered. Studying the human, Kallian had the vague impression that something was different about him. It took her a few beats to realize what it was. "Hey, you finally got some new armor."

Alistair jumped at the sound of her voice. He was dressed in a rather plain-looking set of grey armor that was familiar somehow. Brushing a hand over the breastplate, he gave Kallian a quick smile. "You mean this? It's more of a loaner than anything else. The Arl's armourer hasn't finished fixing up my old plate."

Kallian stepped forward to inspect it. "I feel like I've seen this somewhere before."

"Well, you probably have considering—" Alistair paused in midsentence as his eyes landed on her new necklace. Flicking a swift glance between Kallian and Wynne, his face lit up in excitement. "Did it work then? Are you feeling better?"

Instinctually raising a hand to brush the side of the aegis, Kallian nodded with a small grin. "If by 'better' you mean 'not losing my mind'; than yes, I'm feeling much better."

"That's great!" Alistair made an odd motion that might have been the beginnings of a hug before stopping short. After a brief moment of visible indecision, he lifted his hand and clapped the side of her shoulder. "I've been so worried about you. Eamon was telling me that we would have to prepare to go on without you, but I knew Wynne would pull through."

Kallian felt her smile die at the mention of the Arl. After the incident in his castle, Arl Eamon had politely let her know that she'd be welcome to stay in Redcliffe if she didn't feel up to making the journey to Denerim. She might of thought that this was a simple kindness, but he had started to insist rather strongly when it became clear that she wasn't going to do so. It hadn't taken Kallian long to pick up on the hint. The Arl had big plans in Denerim, and he hadn't wanted an insane elf to screw everything up. The funny part was that part of her had completely agreed with him.

Wynne smiled faintly and moved to stand near the desk. "I'm glad you had faith, because I was almost certain that it wouldn't work."

"You told me it would be easy." Kallian frowned over at the mage.

"I didn't want you to become discouraged. The truth is that it is a miracle that I remembered those sigils at all."

"Oh."

Wynne gave her a sly look. "What's even more surprising is that I managed to get you to sit still for an hour. I half-expected you to be crawling up the walls by the end."

"Ha." Kallian rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the desk so that her legs were dangling off the side. Ignoring Wynne's disapproving look, Kallian turned her attention back to Alistair. "So what's the deal with the armor? Wearing it indoors seems a little paranoid."

Alistair walked around the desk so that he was standing closer to them. "I'm not wearing it for protection; this is my disguise. You said that you had seen it before? That's probably because this is the armor used by the personal guard of the Arl of Denerim."

Kallian felt the blood drain from her face. She suddenly remembered that armor all too vividly. "Where in the hell did you get that?"

"Queen Anora." Something of Kallian's expression must have shown on her face, because Alistair cracked a smile and nodded. "I know, I wasn't sure what to make of it either. A servant came to Eamon's door last night with four sets of armor and a message from Anora."

Wynne cleared her throat. "What could possibly possess her to do that?"

"Well, it turns out that Eamon's rumors were all true." Alistair reached down to pluck the piece of paper he had been studying from the surface of the desk. "Anora claims that she is being held against her will in the Arl of Denerim's estate. Apparently, Rendon Howe is her captor, and she wants us to use this armor to infiltrate the Arl's residence and free her."

The name meant nothing to Kallian, so she shrugged her shoulders. "Rendon Howe?"

"He's an Arl with a reputation for being ruthless. Anora's message makes it clear that he is Loghain's closest ally. In recent weeks, he has declared himself to be the new Arl of Denerim. Loghain has officially supported the claim, and the former Arl is nowhere to be found."

Kallian mulled that over for a second. "And now he's doing Loghain a favor by keeping an eye on Anora?"

"Yes, it seems as though she's being treated like a political puppet." Alistair held up the note for emphasis. "She somehow heard about our arrival, and she has now entreated us for aid."

"So what are we supposed to do? Go chasing after Anora because she sends us a letter?" Kallian crossed her arms and gave Alistair an incredulous look. "The only way this could possibly be a more obvious trap is if she had said that she was deathly afraid of weapons and that we shouldn't bring any."

"That was my first reaction as well." Alistair leaned back against the edge of the desk so that he was sitting next to Kallian. "After speaking with Eamon however, I've come to the decision that this is worth the risk. Anora has the potential to be our most powerful political ally. That said, so long as she's under lock and key, there isn't a thing she can do to help us."

"Can't hurt us either."

Alistair gave Kallian a pointed look. "Sure, up until Loghain parades her out in front of the Landsmeet to support his position. She's popular enough to pose a threat to our plans."

"You know what else would threaten our plans? Being dead."

Her comment dragged a smile out of Alistair. Nodding a few times, he quirked his eyebrows and leaned forward. "Alright, I'll admit that this could very well be a trap. That said, this is also one of those occasions where the reward outweighs the risk. Everything Eamon has heard suggests that Anora is trying to escape her father. If we manage to win her support, we would be effectively winning the majority of Landsmeet. We need control of the army if we are going to stand a chance of stopping the Archdemon. Literally everything we have worked for might be at risk if we don't at least attempt to free Anora."

"And if it's just a trap?"

"Then it's a trap." Alistair lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I don't think it will be for no other reason than it's too obvious. Anora's supposed to be clever, and I'd think she could come up with a more convincing trap if she actually wanted to betray us."

Kallian acknowledged his point with a grudging nod. She had only the most basic understanding of politics, but even she could understand that having powerful friends was a good thing. Alistair's reasoning was sound, and she could see how this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. If she was being perfectly honest, her resistance to the plan stemmed from something other than caution. If there was one place in all of Thedas that she never wanted to see again, it was the Arl of Denerim's estate.

All the same, she wasn't willing to disappoint Alistair. Taking a breath, she nodded. "Alright, I guess when you put it like that we have no choice. I'm with you."

"Err…actually, you're not."

"I'm not?" Kallian felt a bizarre mixture of relief and confusion.

"I doubt any of the armor would fit you." Alistair gave her a kind smile and chuckled. "I don't think there are too many female elves in the Arl's personal guard."

Kallian blinked in realization. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Sorry, but I was sure if you'd even feel up to going. Not to worry though, some of the others volunteered and we've got it covered." Alistair cocked his head with a thoughtful expression. "It's actually a lucky thing that we were travelling with a qunari. One of those armor sets must have been made for a giant or something."

"Who else is going?"

"Well, there will be me, Sten—" Alistair broke off as a loud clamor rose up from the hallway. "Oh, that will be them now I think."

Sure enough, the door handle rattled a mere moment later to admit several figures into the study. Sten was leading the group, and Kallian couldn't help but notice that his borrowed armor looked a little small. All the same, the closed helm he was wearing helped to disguise his blocky, qunari features. The only thing that really set him aside from a regular guardsman was his impressive stature. Hopefully, everyone would be too intimidated to inspect him closely.

Directly behind him, Zevran strutted into the room wearing a matching set of armor. Although Wynne had removed his stitches several days ago, the long gouges down the left side of his face were still pink with freshly-healed skin. He had covered his empty eye-socket with a black patch that he claimed made him look roguish. Kallian had to admit that the assassin had somehow made grotesque injuries work in his favor. He came off as dangerous and mysterious where most people would simply look disfigured.

Kallian almost laughed when she laid eyes on the final "guardsman". In her surprisingly well-fitted suit of plate, Morrigan looked about as comfortable as a cat in a Mabari kennel. Glaring about as if daring someone to make a comment, the witch stalked into the room with her staff in one hand.

Leliana and Oghren brought up the rear of the group. Neither of them were dressed in armor, but it looked as though Oghren had been fortifying himself with the Arl's beer. Averting her eyes when Leliana looked in her direction, Kallian clasped her hands and dangled them in between her legs.

"Alright, everybody is here. You guys look great." Alistair clapped his hands together with a smile. "I had my doubts as to how this was going to turn out, but it's almost perfect. We might have to do something about Morrigan's staff though."

Morrigan glared at him. "What, pray tell, is wrong with my staff?"

"Well…guards don't really carry magical staves." Alistair's voice was colored with a teasing tone. "Believe me, I don't agree with the policy at all. Staff integration will be the first thing I address when I take the throne."

After letting off an irritable huff, Morrigan fixed Alistair with a glare worthy of a gorgon. Muttering something under her breath, she raised the staff off of the ground and brought it down with a loud "thump". Immediately, the aged wood seemed to melt and expand as it assumed a new shape. At first, it looked like the staff was just growing larger, but then Kallian noticed that a broad, metal blade was beginning to sprout near the top. Within seconds, the witch was holding a full-blown halberd in place of her staff.

"...Wow." Alistair raised his brows in appreciation. "I did not know you could do that."

"'Tis hardly surprising considering the depths of your ignorance."

Alistair pursed his lips but didn't rise to the bait. Ignoring Morrigan with pointed nonchalance, he swept a look over the rest of the party. "Alright, aside from that, I think we are more or less ready to do this. Anyone have any questions?"

Kallian raised her hand. "Do you want the rest of us to go along in case things go tits up?"

"I thought about it, and I don't think that's for the best." Alistair rapped the metal of his breastplate with one knuckle. "These things are going to keep us from attracting too much attention once we enter the Highlands. If everything goes as planned, we should be able to enter the estate without arousing any suspicion. I don't want to risk alerting Howe's guards by having a group of armed warriors lurking outside the grounds. We're just going to have to rely on stealth for this one."

Oghren snorted. "Sounds like a good way to get yerself killed. What if ya' need support?"

"That's why Morrigan's coming along. If we are somehow discovered, she'd going to provide a distraction so we can escape."

"What kind of distraction?" Leliana asked in a soft voice.

In answer, the witch held up her hand with the palm facing upwards. With a menacing crack of displaced air, a small sphere of fire erupted into existence to hover a few inches over her hand. Extinguishing the flame after a few seconds, Morrigan gave Leliana a smirk that was dripping with meaning.

Behind Morrigan's back, Alistair rolled his eyes. "So, there's that."

Leliana shrugged and leaned back against a nearby bookcase. Kallian could that Leliana wasn't happy with this plan. Although she had her own misgivings about sending Alistair into a possible trap, Kallian was beginning to think that things would work out smoothly. Howe's guards were probably bored and slightly drunk, so there was little chance of her companions meeting any type of firm resistance. Even if they did, Kallian had a hard time imagining ordinary soldiers facing down a mage like Morrigan.

That made her think of something. "What if there are Templars at the estate?"

"Not much chance of that." Alistair shook his head and then glanced at Morrigan. "The Chantry isn't in the habit of stationing Templars on private property. All the same, it's best if you don't work any major spells unless you absolutely have to. A major spike in magic would be enough to draw their attention."

Oghren folded his arms. "Sounds like ya' got it all worked out."

"It seems like it." Alistair grinned in a self-conscious fashion. "Then again, most every plan looks good when it's on paper. We'll see how it goes once we get there."

"Good on ya', lad. That's the type of attitude a man should have." Oghren nodded judiciously and strolled off to open the door that led back into the hall. "If everythin' goes to shit, you can find me down at that pisshole tavern. I got my eye on one of them elf maids they got behind the bar."

"Hmm…" Zevran stroked his chin thoughtfully after the dwarf had stepped out. "However will we manage without him?"

Alistair released a mournful sigh. "I just wish there was some way to warn that poor girl. She has no idea how surreal her night is about to become."

"I'll remain here in case any of you are injured." Wynne fixed Zevran with a stern look. "You need to be particularly careful. I won't be able to use magic to fix any wounds you receive. If you get injured, you're going to have to rely on poultices and ordinary surgery."

He gave a carefree shrug. "So long as this Howe fellow does not own a dragon, I suspect that I will be able to get by. It's not my intent to get into any fights. I still have not had time to adjust to my recent limitations."

Kallian couldn't help glancing at his eye-patch. She was surprised at how well Zevran was dealing with the loss. It was likely that his lighthearted dismissals were just covering up his real emotions, but she was still impressed by how unflappable he appeared. She would have handled it much worse if she had been the one to lose an eye.

"That's a good rule of thumb for all of us. Also, it might be best if I do most of the talking." Alistair's eyes slid to Sten for a bare instant. "Just for simplicity's sake."

Morrigan made an impatient sound. "I have no argument. Let us be on our way. I do not intend to wear this dreadful thing for a moment longer than is absolutely necessary."

"It will be dark soon, so I suppose we could leave now." Alistair pushed off of the desk and checked the sword that was belted at his waist. "Unless any of you have something else you need to do before we begin?"

Sten grunted. "I am prepared."

"As am I." Zevran pulled on his helm so that his ears were concealed beneath the metal. "Let us go and rescue the fair princess."

"Queen." Alistair corrected with a grin.

"That is far less romantic."

"Believe me, I know." Alistair cast a quick look between Kallian and Leliana. "Are the two of you ok with staying behind? I know this is kind of your thing, but I don't think we can get our hands on any more armor."

Leliana waved his comment off. "My pride has suffered worse blows. Be safe and don't do something foolish."

"And don't get captured." Kallian chimed in with a helpful nod. "You'd probably wind up being tortured and executed."

Alistair gave her a flat look. "Thanks for the advice."

"Yep."

Alistair straightened up and motioned for the others to follow him. After trading a few quick goodbyes, the four faux guardsmen tromped out of the study with a riotous clank of metal. Hoping that they didn't get themselves killed, Kallian looked to her left when Wynne cleared her throat.

"I'm going to go rest in my quarters for a spell. Feel free to come see me if you have any problems with the aegis. One thing you really shouldn't do is try to remove it yourself. The magical response would be unpleasant."

"Will do." Kallian bobbed her head to show that she was listening. "Thanks again. I guess I owe you another one."

"Yes, you're working up quite the tab." Wynne chuckled to herself and made her way to the door. "Perhaps you can start by reading the first chapter of _The Ecclesiastic History of Ferelden_. I would like to discuss it for our next lesson."

Kallian grimaced at the thought. She didn't know who had written the absurdly-large tome that Wynne had given her, but the author had a gift for inspiring boredom. Nodding in weak agreement when Wynne glanced back at her, Kallian watched as the elderly mage stepped out of the room and back into the hallway.

In doing so, she left Kallian alone with Leliana.

Fighting the urge to get up and follow Wynne's example, Kallian cast a nervous look over at where Leliana was still leaning against the bookshelf. The bard was watching her with a neutral expression, and Kallian tried her best to smile. "Hey."

Leliana pushed herself off of the bookcase and walked over to her at an even pace. Stopping a foot from where Kallian was sitting, she lifted a hand to lightly touch the metal of the aegis. Kallian almost flinched from the contact, but she forced herself to remain perfectly still as the bard inspected it. At length, Leliana raised her eyes to meet Kallian's.

"It's working?"

Kallian nodded. "Yeah, it's working."

"That's wonderful." Leliana's lips curled up into a faint smile. "Aren't you excited?"

Shrugging, Kallian slid off the edge of the desk so that she was standing. It meant that they were no longer at eye-level, but Kallian was feeling too antsy to remain seated. Privately wondering why humans had to be so damn tall, Kallian glanced up at Leliana. "This is the first time I've been able to relax in a week. It's great, but it's also temporary. Wynne says I can't use this thing for more than five months or so."

"Even so, this is a tremendous step forward." Leliana slowly took her hand away. "Wynne managed this in a week. In five months, she'll probably have a thousand different ways to help you."

Kallian wasn't so sure, but she smiled in an agreeable fashion. "Yeah, that's the hope."

They both fell silent after that. Wringing her hands uncomfortably, Kallian let her eyes dart around the room in an attempt to find something to study. After listening to the fire pop and crackle for several long minutes, Kallian risked a glance back at Leliana to find the bard staring at her with one delicate eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"I'm just waiting for you to run." Leliana's voice was quiet and faintly reapproving. "Do you already have an excuse or do you need to make one up?"

Kallian felt heat rise up in cheeks. It was true; this was probably the longest amount of time they had spent alone since leaving Redcliffe. Kallian had dodged the last few conversations Leliana had tried to initiate, and her clumsy evasions had clearly not gone unnoticed.

"I…uh, sorry."

"Sorry?" Leliana repeated the word in an incredulous tone. "That's all you have to say? Let me give you a hint: that's not good enough."

Kallian frowned and looked off to the side. While she accepted the fact that Leliana had a right to be angry, the circumstances weren't exactly normal. Kallian didn't know how most people would react to losing their mind and attacking the woman they loved, but she was damn sure the reaction wouldn't be graceful. She had been scared shitless and utterly consumed with guilt. What the hell did Leliana want from her?

"Yeah? Well, I'm sorry about that too." Kallian hunched her shoulder and turned back to face Leliana. "I've been a little too busy going insane to think up the perfect apology. Tell you what: why don't you just tell me what you want to hear and I'll repeat it back to you."

She expected the comment to make Leliana angry, but the bard just gave her a tired look. "The only thing I want from you is to understand. Do you actually think that avoiding me is helping anything?"

Kallian bit her lip. It hadn't helped at all, but it had still been preferable to looking Leliana in the eye. There were no words to describe the confusion and horror she had felt when she had woken up to find herself bound to a bed in Redcliffe. She had panicked at first, and thrashed about until Wynne and Alistair rushed in to hold her down. It was then that Alistair had told her what had happened. Even recalling his hesitant explanation made her feel an overwhelming sense of self-loathing. She had nearly killed Leliana, and that thought tore at her like a wild animal.

"I-I…I just…" Kallian felt her voice crack and she ducked her head to stare down at the carpet beneath her feet. "Why would you want to talk to me?"

She felt the bard's hands settle on her upper arms. "Kallian, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't blame you? I don't know what attacked me in that hallway, but I do know that it wasn't you."

Kallian released a laugh that sounded ugly even to her own ears. "I didn't see anyone else there."

"I'm being serious, Kallian." Leliana shook her once to get her attention. Glancing up from the floor, Kallian tried to meet her eyes. "I don't blame you for what you did because you weren't in your right mind. If we were sleeping and I rolled over and hit you with my hand, would you blame me?"

"That's nowhere close to being the same thing."

"Of course it is." Leliana released her arms and stepped back. "I refuse to blame you for being ill. It was a horrible moment, but you did it unconsciously and you stopped before any damage could be done. You can't hate yourself for something that you didn't do."

"Stop saying that!" Kallian snapped at her. "I did it. Whether or not I could help it, I was the one who hurt you."

Leliana said nothing in response. Her blue-eyes were sad as she stared down at Kallian. After a pause, the bard slowly lifted her hand as if to stroke the side of Kallian's face. Shying away from the touch, Kallian backed up a step and looked away. She wasn't sure what she was feeling at the moment, but she knew that she couldn't handle Leliana's tenderness.

Dropping her hand with a sigh, Leliana turned around and walked a few steps away. She hugged her arms to her chest and spoke at a volume that was just above a whisper. "So, how long is it going to be before you stop acting like you're walking on eggshells around me? I'm tired of this, Kallian."

Kallian wished she had an answer for that. As difficult as this was for her, she didn't want to end the conversation. Even though she had been the one to impose distance between them, Kallian missed Leliana fiercely. It was good just to hear the other woman's voice. Casting about for something to say, Kallian drew in a breath as inspiration suddenly struck her.

Walking forward with tentative steps, she stopped a few feet from Leliana and paused for a moment before speaking. "I think we should take a walk."

"Would that help you somehow?"

"No, I think it might help you though." Kallian coughed in discomfort and then spoke up in a firmer voice. "I think we should go see Slim Couldry."

Leliana half-turned at the waist to look back at her. Her expression gave no away nothing of her thoughts, and she didn't seem surprised or offended by Kallian's sudden change of subject. After waiting a few beats to see if Leliana would comment, Kallian ploughed on ahead.

"He may have information on Marjolaine." She forced her own face to become expressionless. The indifferent mask she had worn for so long came back with surprising ease. Taking some cold comfort from the fact, she gazed steadily back at Leliana. "The others don't need us tonight, and we should at least learn if there is an opportunity."

The bard watched her for a long time before closing her eyes and nodding slowly. "Alright."

Kallian hesitated and ran a hand through her hair. "We can talk more later."

Leliana didn't respond.

…

xxXxx

By the time they had gathered their furs and left Arl Eamon's estate, night had fallen over Denerim.

Even though it was still early in the evening, the streets were almost deserted as most people had fled indoors to escape the cold weather. The light snowfall provided a pleasing contrast to the relative stillness of the city. Each animated fleck of white dancing about as it fell from the viviparous clouds overhead.

Kallian and Leliana didn't have any trouble finding their way along the main street. Orange firelight poured out from those houses that had windows to provide ample illumination to see by. All the same, Kallian kept her guard up as they went. No matter how pleasant it might currently appear, Denerim was never safe after dark.

They walked in silence. Kallian had tried to think of something innocent to talk about, but everything had felt inadequate in the face of their earlier conversation. Leliana hadn't said anything either, so Kallian focused on making sure they weren't being trailed by some enterprising thug. It occupied her thoughts, and it was best to be cautious.

She had a moment of instinctual fear when they passed by a group of guards in the middle of a patrol. Drawing back into her hood as much as possible, Kallian held her breath until the men had rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. The guards hadn't given the two of them a second glance, and Kallian tried to remind herself that she wasn't dressed like a starving thief anymore.

A few uneventful minutes later, they stopped outside the doors of the Hop's Harvest. Trading a quick look with Leliana, Kallian opened the door and held it while the bard entered. Stepping in after her, Kallian smiled to herself when she was greeted with the warm sound of laughter and friendly conversation.

The inn's common room was mostly full this time around. Amongst the young nobles and wealthy merchants, Kallian could see a few people who looked out of place. They were the thieves and informants working under Slim. Although he had dressed them up to look presentable, Kallian had no trouble sorting them out from the respectable cliental. People who had grown up on the streets just had a certain look to them. It was apparent in the wary set of their shoulders and the way they'd fidget whenever someone would pass behind them.

After scanning the crowd for a familiar face, Kallian shrugged and led Leliana towards the bar. She didn't recognize the bartender working tonight, but Slim wouldn't employ anyone who didn't know the way of things. Flagging the man down, Kallian rested her forearms on top of the bar and waited for him to come over.

He gave her a winning smile as he walked over to her end of the bar. "Good evening ladies, can I interest the two of you in the house special? It's a winter ale with some lovely spices. I just tried a mug tonight, and I have to say it's one of the best things I've ever tasted."

"Sounds nice, we'll both take a mug." Kallian kept her voice pleasant and then leaned in so as not to be overheard. "Merlin is here to see the Gentleman."

The bartender nodded as he reached under the bar to pull out two thick glasses. "Good choice, my lady."

He drew their drinks from a large keg that was set against the far wall and then motioned a blond barmaid over. Exchanging a few whispered words with the girl, the bartender then turned back to Kallian and set both of the mugs on the bar with a small wink. "On the house."

"Thanks." She nodded to him and fished in her coin purse for a few silvers to give as a tip. Taking them without hesitation, the bartender smiled at her and strode off to help another customer.

"It's rather risky, isn't it?" Leliana murmured softly as Kallian slid her one of the beers. "Having an operation like this in such a prominent location, I mean. Surely it would be much safer to have this in a more discreet part of town."

Kallian shrugged. "I said the same thing to Slim once. He apparently likes the idea of hiding right under the nobility's nose. I still think it's stupid, but he's been here for years without any problems."

Leliana seemed to mull this over. "Fair enough."

A moment later, the blonde girl that the bartender had talked to appeared behind Leliana's shoulder. Smiling cheerfully, she waved a hand to indicate that she wanted them to follow. Kallian nodded and picked up her beer before walking away from the bar.

The barmaid led them around the oak counter and through a door that led into the back of the tavern. It was a familiar route for Kallian, and she briefly reflected on the last time she had gone back to Slim's office. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She couldn't even really remember what the job had been. Maybe she could ask Slim if he remembered…

Kallian shook off the distracting thought as they passed into Slim's study. Where Arl Eamon's office had been both large and lavish, Slim's amounted to nothing more than a small table with a few candles set on top. The only decoration was the mounted head of a sow that Slim claimed had once tried to gore him. Every time that Kallian had pointed out that sows don't have tusks, he had always changed the subject rather quickly.

Slim was sitting in a wooden chair with a thin book held open in one hand. As they entered, he tossed the book onto the table and stood up with a grin. Crossing the small room in two strides, he extended a hand so that he and Kallian could grip forearms. "Kallian! Good to see you!"

"Likewise." Kallian tried not to wince as he enthusiastically shook her entire arm. "How's business?"

A sour look passed over Slim's face. "It's shit. Loghain's declared martial law. Twice as many guard patrols every night and several thieving dens have been shut down along the docks. Bastard is trying to make this damn city into a sodding Chantry overnight."

"Why does he care about thieves?" Leliana asked with a slight frown. "Surely he has better things to worry about with the Darkspawn on the way."

"Hell if I know. A couple of my contacts in the guard have been saying that he's gotten all worked up about establishing civil order. He seems to think that even the tiniest bit of chaos will cost us everything. If you ask me, the bugger doesn't know what to do with all this power. He's just trying to do anything at all to show that he's not shitting himself."

Kallian smirked in amusement. "I'd shit myself in his position."

"Who in their right minds wouldn't?" Slim stepped back and gestured at two of the chairs at the table. "Damn, where the hell are my manners? Would you ladies like to take a seat?"

"Thanks, Slim."

Once all three of them had taken their seats, Slim folded his thick hands in front of him. "So, where did the two of you run off to?"

"Some podunk little town called Haven. We were looking for that brother we told you about."

Slim grunted. "You find him?"

"Yep, along with a whole bunch of creepy shit." Kallian grimaced and waved her hand. "You might be interested to hear that the Temple of the Holy Ashes is real. We found it on top of a mountain peak near this Haven place."

"No shit?" The burly human's face twisted into rare expression of surprise. "Well, I'll be damned. Thanks girl, I might be able to sell that information for quite a bit."

Kallian smirked. "Better hurry. That brother is going to tell the world once he publishes a paper or something."

"Blasted scribes trying to educate the whole damn world. Bad for business and all that." Slim gave a rueful shake of his head and then grinned at her. "So, I'm guessing that the two of you came back for your information. You'll be pleased to know that I had some better luck this time around."

Kallian felt like it would be best not to mention that she had never checked the information that Slim had left in her dead-drop. There hadn't been time before they had left Denerim, but she didn't want to offend his delicate constitution. "You found Marjolaine?"

"Sure did."

"How?" Leliana leaned forward with an intense expression in her eyes.

"Well, it wasn't easy; I'll tell you that much." Slim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "No one with her description was staying at any of the inns or boarding houses in the city. There was no property under her name, and the most my contacts could give me was a couple of vague recollections about a brown-haired Orlesian. After the first week, I was beginning to think she had moved on."

Kallian propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. "What changed?"

"Loghain's proclamation. When he declared martial law, he ordered that every naval ship belonging to a Ferelden citizen was to be commandeered by the crown." Slim looked amused by the thought. "Not a bad idea considering the number of refugees we have in the northern camps. Everyone who isn't being conscripted into the army needs to evacuate before the Darkspawn arrive."

Leliana took a delicate sip of ale and then set the mug down. "I don't see how that would have helped you find Marjolaine."

"Heh...the thing is that a lot of people want to get the hell out of Denerim. Your bard happens to be one of them. The only problem is that Loghain is prioritizing the refugees. The nobility and the wealthy merchants are getting first go, and then he'll start moving down the social ladder. Now, as you may now, Loghain hates foreigners. I guess fighting in that rebellion made it so that he only trusts people from Ferelden." Slim glanced at Kallian. "Word is that non-citizens are going to be the last to leave. Hell, the Alienage is getting evacuated before them."

Kallian was beginning to catch on. "So if Marjolaine wants to escape the country...?"

"She's got to find a ship willing to take her." Slim spread his hands like a street magician performing an illusion. "Which is something of a problem considering how few foreign ships are in port. After all, who the hell wants to dock in a city that's on the verge of being properly buggered but the Darkspawn? There's only a handful down at the docks, and most of those have already been commissioned by nobles who don't fancy our chances."

"That sounds like the nobility."

"Damn right it does." Slim released a grunt of agreement. "So, once my contacts told me about the pretty Orlesian looking for passage, I decided to take advantage of the situation. The two of you are lucky that I have an old friend who both owns a boat and needs a favor. Long story short, I had this friend of mine approach the bard with an offer of safe transport. She must have been pretty desperate, because she agreed to the price without haggling. The two of them even set up a day for departure on the spot."

"That's...very clever." Leliana sounded rather impressed. "We could set up an ambush for her when they try to board the ship."

"They're due to set off in five days in the middle of broad daylight. If you try to attack them on the docks, the guard is sure to step in."

"What would you suggest?"

"Well, I'm not really in the murdering business..." Slim scratched the stubble of his beard thoughtfully. "But, I suppose you could try sneaking into the apartments she's using. My friend figured out where she is staying."

Leliana visibly paled. "You didn't try to tail her, did you?"

"Tail a bard? I'm not an idiot." Slim gave Leliana a flat look. "She told the crew of the ship exactly where she was living. Apparently, she's got a considerable amount of valuable art that she wants transported down to the dock before the ship leaves port. It's my experience that people don't give much thought to the common worker."

"It could be a fake address."

"Could be." Slim acknowledged her point with a nod. "I haven't been able to check the facts. My friend is being tight-fisted with the details. Seems to think that I might go back on my word if I had all the information."

Kallian folded her arms. "So, how are we supposed to find Marjolaine if your contact won't tell us where she is?"

In answer, Slim let out a loud whistle that made Leliana jump in surprise. Immediately, the door to the study opened and a different barmaid than before popped her head in through the crack. Smiling at her, Slim waved in the general direction of the common room. "Sarah, would be so good as to fetch the Osprey for me?"

The girl nodded once and disappeared. Turning back to Kallian, Slim took a minute to rifle through some papers on his desk to reveal a small leather folder. Passing it over, he jerked his chin at it. "That's the information my friend wants. The deal is that you hand it over once she leads you to the bard's residence. Don't try to hold it back because she's quick to draw steel if you piss her off."

Kallian nodded and tucked the folder into the pouch on her belt. "Can we trust this friend of yours?"

"Absolutely not," Slim shook his head. "She's not a bad sort, but you really can't trust a pirate, can you?"

He had barely finished speaking when the door to the study opened with a bang. Twisting around in her seat, Kallian felt her eyes widen as she beheld the new arrival.

The woman was Rivaini. Her dark skin and copper-colored hair couldn't have announced that any more clearly. She was dressed in a revealing drape of white cloth that was caught somewhere between a short-skirt and a tunic. Idly wondering how anyone could afford to show so much skin in the middle of winter, Kallian found that her eyes were almost magnetically drawn to the woman's chest. Kallian had seen tits before, but this woman's cleavage was otherworldly. All but spilling out the front of her dangerously-low neckline, her breasts were large and clearly meant to be on display. Along with her thigh-high boots and the golden stud set into her lower lip, the woman looked rather like the women Oghren was constantly describing.

Crossing her arms underneath her impressive bust, the pirate swept an eye over Kallian and Leliana. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but her face was both interesting and sensual. Smiling in a fashion that felt somehow intimate, the woman placed her hands on her rounded hips spoke in the vibrant accent of her homeland. "Well now, it's about time you showed up. I'm starting to get tired of this place."

Slim rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

"Ladies, this is Captain Isabela." He nodded at the pirate standing in his doorway. "Isabela, meet Kallian and Leliana."

...

xxXxx

* * *

I'd be pleased as punch if you guys would be so kind as to review. Even if it's just something minor, nothing makes me happier than to hear about one thing that worked and one thing that didn't. On that note, thanks very much to everyone who dropped me a line for the last chapter. I really appreciate the help. Finally, thank you to my beta Gorg for going over the chapter.

There's going to be a chapter for Alistair and co, and then one for the three girls. After that, there will be several chapters to conclude Denerim and then the final battle.

See you all next time!


	37. Perfect Disguise

A/N: Just want to thank my beta Gorg for going over this as usual. Also, thanks so much to chipmouskin and Viedyn for continuously helping out as well.

Chapter 37- Perfect Disguise

-The Arl of Denerim's Estate-

* * *

xxXxx

…

"Alright, everybody just act normal."

Alistair gave the order in what he hoped was a confident tone. He didn't have a concrete plan at the moment, but he didn't see any reason to tell the others that. When Anora had said that she needed to be rescued, he had hoped that things would end up being rather straightforward. It shouldn't have surprised him that this was turning into quite the chore.

Although Anora was being held in a stateroom on the top floor, Alistair and the others were currently exploring Howe's dungeon. It was cheerful place with a large assortment of iron cages and wicked-looking instruments of torture. Every once and a while, a piercing scream of agony would sound from some unseen location. At the moment, they were standing in a narrow chamber that Alistair hoped was the processing room. It had a desk with a single candle set on the top, but the chair behind it was empty. With any luck, the jailor would soon come back and be willing to give them some directions.

"How is one normally expected to act in a dungeon?" Morrigan sounded more curious than anything else. She was acting as though this lovely trip into Howe's torture chambers was an opportunity to learn something new and exciting.

"Menacing, unapproachable, inhumanly sadistic." Zevran rattled off the list before pausing for a brief moment. "Perhaps with an underlying current of misplaced homoeroticism."

"Can't forget that," Alistair muttered as he peered into one of the cells that had been carved out of the sides of the room. It was empty, but the floor of the cell was liberally stained with what looked to be blood. "Okay, so remember to let me neutralize this mage when we find him. I'd prefer to get out of here without raising a fuss."

Morrigan made a huffing sound. "I still do not understand why you did not just let me unbind the ward on the Queen's door. 'Twas a clever bit of work, but I would have been able to shatter it without too much difficulty."

Alistair shook his head without looking back at her. "Yeah, no offense or anything, but I've seen the way you work magic. Be honest: if you were to break that ward, how much of the wall would be left over afterwards?"

"…Enough to continue supporting the structure."

"Uh-huh, and what about the Queen? Any chance you would accidentally blow off a nonessential part of her in the process?" Alistair smiled thinly and then glanced back at the witch. "It's best if we just remove the mage who cast it in the first place. Anora said that he was somewhere in the dungeons."

"'Tis your decision to make. I just assumed you would have wanted to make this easier."

"Easier, but not better." Sten rumbled from somewhere over Alistair's left shoulder. "Such it is with all magic."

Morrigan released a short, mocking laugh. "Ah, I had forgotten that you were such an expert when it comes to the Arcane. 'Tis so easy to dismiss you as a thick-skulled primitive whose few thoughts are mired in the collective ignorance of his culture."

Sten didn't seem to react to the barbed comment. "I have seen enough of magic to know that it is profane."

"You know nothing aside from the barbaric reasoning of this religion of yours. If your people were to take the time to study magic instead of merely condemning it, they might see that 'tis the most powerful and useful force in this world. Your ignorance does nothing but deny your people."

"Our ways protect us from abominations."

"I've heard of this so-called 'protection'." Morrigan's voice turned acidic. "Cutting out the tongues of your mages and binding them like animals? 'Tis beyond comprehension."

Sten grunted. "There is just cause for removing their tongues. Listening to you prattle just reinforces that position."

Before Morrigan could reply with something equally venomous, Alistair cleared his throat loudly. Glaring at them both, he held out his arms to indicate the empty cells on either side of the room they were in. "As lovely as it is to hear the two of you snarl at one another, could you both shut up? We're in a bloody dungeon right now."

"Speaking of which," Zevran's voice prompted Alistair turn back around. "I do believe that we have company."

Alistair felt his heart leap into his throat when he realized that he could hear footsteps approaching from behind the wooden door that led deeper into the prison. A moment later, a glimmer of torchlight could be seen underneath the door-jam as someone fiddled with the latch. Motioning for the others to fall in behind him, Alistair straightened up and tried to look like a guard.

The man who stepped through the door was dressed in a cloth uniform with the insignia of a lieutenant on the lapels. He was young for an officer, but his sandy hair and mustache were immaculately groomed. Snapping a crisp salute, Alistair silently prayed that the others would follow his lead. Peering at them all for a moment, the man slid the torch he was holding into a bracket mounted on the wall and then approached the table.

"Guardsmen?" The officer's voice sounded imperious and faintly annoyed. "Why are you down here? The next shift is not due to begin for another three hours."

Alistair gave a quick, apologetic nod. "Pardon us, ser. We've been sent on orders to retrieve the mage. Apparently, the ward on the Queen's door is looking weak."

He had been hoping that the guard would just pass them along out of laziness or boredom, but the young officer frowned and walked around the edge of the desk. "I've heard nothing of this. Agacius is currently assisting in the interrogation room and has asked not to be disturbed. Who is it that sent you?"

"Our sergeant, ser." Alistair mentally cursed but kept his face composed and plain.

"Sergeant Alden? What does that incompetent know about wards?" The officer stepped close and peered at Alistair suspiciously. "You know, I don't recognize you guardsman. Are you part of that group the Teyrn sent over?"

"Yes ser. We are somewhat new." Alistair felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. "Maybe Sergeant Alden is playing a joke on us. Some type of—"

Alistair's words were cut off when Sten abruptly reached over and grabbed the officer's head in one large hand. Ignoring the man's squawk of surprise, the qunari brutally slammed the officer's skull down against the table with a meaty "thunk." Releasing the lieutenant, Sten stepped back as unfortunate man collapsed to the floor.

For a moment, the four of them just stared down at the motionless officer. Exhaling a long breath, Alistair clapped a hand to the side of his head and gripped a handful of his hair. "Uhhh…Yeesh."

"I felt as though the discussion had run its course." Sten offered by way of explanation. "This seemed like way to expedite things."

Zevran knelt down on one knee and prodded the corpse with his fingers. "Qunari conversations must be short and brutal affairs."

Alistair shot Sten an exasperated look before forcing his mind back to the situation at hand. "Ok…Zevran, check to see if he has any keys on him. It looks like we're going to have to do this fast. We've got to be out of this place before he wakes up and sounds the alarm."

"I wouldn't worry too much on that account. The poor fellow is bleeding from his ears." Zevran said off-handedly as he patted along the officer's belt. "I suspect that does not speak well for his immediate recovery. Let's see now…Ah-hah! Here we are."

With a jangle of metal, the assassin produced a thick key-ring with four iron keys hanging from the circle. Glancing at if for a moment, Zevran walked over to one of the holding cells and began trying the different keys on the lock. After his third attempt, there was a solid clank as the heavy lock sprang open.

Motioning for Sten to grab the man's feet, Alistair slid his hands under the officer's arms and the two of them hefted him off the floor. They carried him over to the cell and dropped him on the straw pallet that had been stuffed into one corner. As they exited the cell, Zevran locked the door behind them.

Taking the keys from the elf, Alistair crossed the room and took the torch from the bracket. "He said that mage was in the interrogation room right?"

"I believe he said that someone named Agacius was in the interrogation room." Morrigan corrected as she moved to follow him. "Whether the mage and this person are the same individual was not made clear."

"Good enough for me."

Moving to the door, Alistair pulled it opened and held it for Morrigan as the witch strode pass. Stepping in after her, Alistair lifted the torch up to reveal that they had entered a short corridor that branched off into two directions. Each of the separate paths sloped downwards, and Alistair couldn't see much farther than a few feet down either one.

"Which way should we go?" Zevran asked in a hushed tone as he drew up behind them.

"No way of knowing." Alistair scratched his head and then shrugged. "Hell, let's just go down the right one and hope that brings us where we need to go. We can always double back if it leads to a latrine or something."

Taking the lead, Alistair kept the torch held aloft so as to provide light for the group. He briefly wondered about the kind of person who would choose to spend their lives hurting people in a place like this. The Darkspawn may be monsters, but these people were the ones who truly frightened him. If by some miracle he survived long enough to sit on the throne, Alistair promised himself that he'd make sure that things of this nature stopped.

The pathway soon led them to a large room with a vaulted ceiling. Torches had been set into the supporting columns that were spread around the space, and their flickering light revealed the room's purpose. It was clearly a torture chamber, and Alistair felt a twinge of revulsion as his eyes landed on a spreading rack set into the center of the room. It was a device made for no other reason than to cause agony. What the hell was wrong with people?

There were more cells set alongside the sides of the room. Unlike the ones that they had encountered in the processing room, some of these were occupied. Holding the torch up, Alistair peered into the nearest cell to see a naked form curled into one of the corners. It shuddered when the light fell on it, and Alistair grimly noted that he couldn't tell whether the pitiable creature was a man or a woman.

"Despicable." Sten's rough voice made him jump. "And they call my people savage."

Zevran clucked his tongue and circled around the torture rack with a curious expression on his face. "We are all savage, my friend. Some of us simply hide it better than others."

Alistair occasionally found Zevran's outlook on life to be unsettling, but right now, he was inclined to agree. Slowly walking around the room, he felt a sick feeling rise up in his chest as he saw how many of the cells were full. Most of the inhabitants just cringed away or whimpered as he passed, and Alistair realized that they just thought he was another guard. A few of them called out with weak pleas for mercy, but the rest stayed silent as though they wanted to avoid calling attention to themselves.

"You wish to help them, do you not?" Morrigan's voice sounded from just over his shoulder. "To free them from this?"

Alistair turned to regard her. Morrigan was watching him with a perfectly neutral expression. Waving a hand to indicate the cages, Alistair met her eyes. "Of course, who wouldn't?"

"Will you?'

"No, not yet at least." Alistair clenched his jaw and looked away. He hated the words, but they were the truth. "We came here for a reason. If we were to release them, they'd give us away for certain. This has to be stopped, but that will have to wait for another day."

"A sensible decision."

Wondering if he was being mocked, Alistair looked back at her. Morrigan didn't seem like she was trying to needle him, so he just nodded in acknowledgement. An instant later, an audible "bang" drew his attention to a small door that set into the western wall. Trading a quick look with Sten and Zevran, he lifted a finger to his lips and then gestured in the direction the sound had come from.

Moving quietly, the four of them all met up at the door. Straining his ears, Alistair could hear the sound of muffled voices from beyond. He checked back to see if the others had heard, and was pleased to see three faces all staring back at him expectantly.

"If it's the mage, we kill him quick. Don't act until I do." Alistair reached down to loosen his sword in his scabbard. "If we've got the wrong room, we'll try to talk our way out of it."

Zevran tilted his head. "And if that fails?"

"Expedite things."

After giving them a moment to prepare themselves, he took hold of the door's latch and opened it. Stepping inside as if he had every right to do so, Alistair tried to look unsurprised as he beheld the sight before him.

Three men were standing in front a wooden chair in the center of the room. Bound to the chair's thick arms, a forth man was sitting with his head lowered. Blood seem to cover every inch of the man's exposed skin, and Alistair had to suppress the urge to flinch as he looked at the prisoner.

Two of the men who were torturing him were dressed in the same armor that Alistair and the others were wearing. The third man was wearing long, flowing robes that were of obvious quality. If this was not enough to identify him as a mage, the long metal staff he carried certainly was.

"What is it?" The mage flicked a glance at Alistair. "I asked not be disturbed."

Alistair took a few steps into the room and felt the others fan out behind him. Shrugging, he spoke up in a bored voice. "I was sent down here by the Arl. He wants to know if there's been any progress with the prisoner."

"And he sent four of you to deliver the message?" The mage scoffed and turned his attention back to the man strapped to the chair. "That hardly seems necessary. Very well, you may tell Howe that the prisoner remains unresponsive. If I continue to heal him at this rate, his heart will give out within a day or so. You may also say that I recommend execution. If this man was going to break, he would have done so weeks ago."

One of the guards cracked his knuckles. "Maybe we just aren't hitting him hard enough."

"He's barely alive as it is." The mage inspected the prisoner with a critical eye. "Hit him too hard, and you'll kill him outright. I doubt he's going to last long in any case."

Alistair took another discreet step forward and then made his move. Out of consideration for Morrigan, he refrained from simply neutralizing all the magic in the room. Instead, he focused his will and traced the Sigil of Retribution in the air in front of him. Some of the Templars in the barracks had referred to the technique as a "Smite", but Alistair simply knew it to be the most formidable weapon in his arsenal.

Rather than simply suppress the mage's magic, Alistair targeted the source itself. Clenching his fist tightly as he finished tracing the sigil, Alistair cleared his mind of distractions. Visualizing the wealth of magical energy that emanated from the man, he mentally recited the chant that formed the structure of the Smite.

Immediately, Alistair felt a dull ache blossom near the back of skull as the technique activated. All at once, the energy that the mage had been storing dissipated in an explosive burst of energy. The backlash was lethal, and the mage was both unshielded and unprepared for the sudden assault. His life was ripped away in an instant, and he dropped without even crying out.

The other two guardsmen didn't even realize what had happened. All they saw was the mage crumple to the floor for no apparent reason. With matching exclamations of surprise, they both reached out as if to help the fallen man.

Sten darted forward with a quickness that was surprising for someone of his size. Wrapping his arms around the head of the nearest man, the qunari wrenched his body to one side and snapped the guard's neck with horrifying crack. Alistair started moving towards the last guard, but Zevran got to him first.

Clamping a hand over the guard's mouth to stifle his alarmed shout, Zevran jerked a dagger from his belt. Quicker than a thought, the assassin stabbed the man in three places: once under the arm, and then twice to the sides of his neck. The entire thing was over in a few short seconds.

Alistair grimaced as he watched Zevran lower the guard's corpse to the ground. He knew it was necessary, but this type of killing left a bad taste in his mouth. It was one thing to face a man in battle, and it was another to murder three men while their backs were turned.

"That went smoothly." Zevran gave the three bodies an appreciative look before glancing up at Alistair. "They never even knew what had hit them."

"No, they sure didn't." Alistair tried not to let his discomfort show on his face. He had to act like a leader no matter what had just occurred. "We got what we came for. Let's get back up to the estate and free Anora. That ward will fade quickly now that the mage is dead."

"It's that simple?"

"Wards are kind of weird." Alistair shrugged as he thought back to the lessons that had been drilled into him at the Chantry. "They are tricky to deal with when the mage who cast them is still alive. A good ninety-percent of magic is focusing your intent, and it's hard to do that when you're all corpse-y and stuff."

"I learn something new every day. May we go on then?"

"A moment," Morrigan clucked her tongue to draw their attention. The witch had wandered over to the man strapped to the chair while they had been talking. Leaning down to study something on the man's bare shoulder, Morrigan cocked her head to one side. "I do believe you will have an interest in this."

Alistair stepped over the mage's corpse and moved to join her. Feeling a brief flash of guilt as he realized that he hadn't given the prisoner a second thought, Alistair bent down next to Morrigan. Being careful not to accidentally burn her, Alistair brought the torch closer. "What do you see?"

"A symbol has been tattooed onto his flesh." Morrigan moved to the side to give him better access. "Unless I am mistaken, that is a griffin."

Alistair shot her a startled look before quickly leaning in to examine the prisoner's shoulder. Although the inked design was obscured by dirt and dried blood, Morrigan was absolutely correct. Whoever this man was, he was marked by the heraldic crest of the Grey Wardens.

"Maker above," Alistair murmured softly as he drew back from the prisoner. "He's a Warden."

Zevran moved to look over Alistair's shoulder. "Is that so? I was under the impression that you and Kallian were the only surviving Wardens in Ferelden."

"We are, technically speaking." Alistair drew his dagger and began sawing at the man's bonds. Even if it was a risk, there was no way he was leaving a fellow Grey Warden in this hell. "I don't recognize this man, and the tattoos aren't a Ferelden thing. I think Duncan once told me that Wardens from the Orlesian chapter receive them as a rite of passage or something like that."

"An Orlesian?" Zevran started working on the ropes that were tied around the prisoner's ankles. "How did he end up in this place, I wonder?"

"I don't know, but I'd bet Loghain had a hand in it." Alistair said grimly as he freed the man's arms. "We're going to have to take him out with us. Whatever he has to say, it's got to be important."

"That might be difficult to explain to the guards upstairs."

"We'll manage. If anyone presses us, we'll just say that we're disposing of a corpse. He looks bad enough that people probably won't question it." Alistair turned to face Sten. "Do you think you could carry him? It'll leave the rest of us free to act if we run into trouble."

Sten nodded. "I will do this."

"Okay, let's go get the queen and get out of here." Alistair watched as Sten gathered the mysterious Warden in his arms as though the man weighed no more than a cat. "Let's hope that no one stops us. Quite a few people have died considering that this is supposed to be a rescue mission."

Zevran shrugged. "At least it's them and not us."

"Don't jinx it."

…

xxXxx

When she opened the door to her stateroom, Queen Anora proved to be a pleasant surprise.

He had formed a mental picture of what she looked like the moment Eamon had brought up the idea of a political marriage. If he was being perfectly honest, Alistair had more or less envisioned a younger version of Loghain with breasts. It was not a terribly appealing concept, but the mental image had stuck with him.

As it turned out, Anora must have taken after her mother. Although Loghain was a greasy bastard with a stupid face, his daughter was unaccountably beautiful. With her long, blond hair and elegant features, Anora looked like something out of a painting. Her appeal was only heightened by the fierce intelligence behind her ice-blue eyes. Unlike so many of the noblewomen that Alistair had met, Anora met his gaze with a boldness that was striking. She exuded self-confidence, but not in an arrogant way.

Alistair had to admit that he found her attractive, even if she was wearing a rather unflattering suit of plate armor.

"Queen Anora? Nice to meet you, I'm Alistair." He bobbed his head at the Queen and quickly pointed out the rest of the party. "That's Morrigan, Sten, and Zevran. We don't know who the bleeding guy is, but we're taking him with us."

Anora took the abrupt introduction in stride. "The pleasure is mine. I hope it was not too much trouble for you to remove the ward."

"No more difficult than infiltrating a heavily-guarded estate." Morrigan muttered in an unpleasant tone. The witch was studying the Queen with a look of distaste, and Alistair thought it was best if the two of them didn't start talking. That wouldn't end well for anyone involved.

"So," He interjected before Anora could reply. "Where did you get the armor?"

"My maid, Valerie. You might remember her as the girl who delivered the sets of armor to Arl Eamon's residence." Anora stepped out of her chambers and raked an appraising look over the group. Alistair wondered what she thought of them all. "I was unsure of whether or not you would believe her, but I felt it best to be prepared if you decided to come. If I am dressed in this way, we will be able to leave the estate without attracting suspicion."

"Ah, lovely _and _resourceful," Zevran gave Anora a suggestive smile. "I can see why your father had locked you away. Surely, the sheer volume of suitors must be—"

"Zevran." Alistair cut the assassin off with a glare. "Do you think you could turn it off for the next hour or so?"

"As you like."

Turning back to the Queen, Alistair gave her an apologetic look. "It was a good thought, Your Highness. We're going to drawn enough attention as it is."

"So I see," Anora's eyes flickered briefly to the bloody man that Sten was holding in his arms. "It would be best if we left quickly. I overheard some of my captors speaking about a possible visit from Rendon Howe. We should not be here when he arrives."

Alistair nodded and pointed back into the stateroom that the Queen had just left. "No arguments there. Do you have everything you will need?"

"I do. There's nothing I would like more than to leave this place behind."

"Alright, please stay at the center of the group, Your Highness. We don't want to risk having someone recognize you." Alistair motioned for his companions to fall in. Aside from a few odd looks in Sten's direction, they hadn't received any undue amount of attention since leaving the dungeon. If everything went as planned, things would stay that way.

With the Queen in tow, the party edged their way out of the guest quarters and back into the main hallway. The Arl's estate had a layout that was very similar to a castle's keep. Long rows of richly-furnished apartments made up the eastern and western sections of the estate, and a large reception hall dominated the center of the building. The entrance to the dungeons and the barracks were to the south, so Alistair hoped to avoid running into any of Howe's men on their way to the northern exit.

Really, they didn't have that far to go. The reception foyer was just outside of the hallway they were currently in. Barring some extremely unfortunate stroke of luck, this rescue mission was going to turn out to be a tremendous success.

"I wish to thank you." Anora flicked a quick glance at Alistair as the group shuffled down the long hallway. "I truly was not expecting you to come, and I cannot express how grateful I am that you did."

Alistair gave her a tight grin. "I'll be honest and say that we almost didn't. If it wasn't for the fact that Arl Eamon argued on your behalf, I would have been inclined to dismiss this all as a trap. You have to admit, it was a little suspicious."

"Believe me, I know." The Queen's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I was sure that you would laugh in Valerie's face. She's a good girl, but her nerves are terrible and I feared she'd botch things."

Alistair checked over his shoulder to see if the hallway was still empty behind them. "She did fine. The Arl's given her a set of rooms in his estate. Once we get out of here, she can go wherever she wants."

"Thank you for that."

"Of course," Alistair turned back to her. "Will you be coming back to Eamon's estate with us? There are some things we will have to discuss."

Anora nodded slowly. "Yes, I suspect that there are. I'll go with you. I doubt I could very well return to my father's house after all of this."

"Probably not."

They lapsed into silence as they drew close to the door leading to the reception foyer. Feeling confident now that they were so close, Alistair let himself relax a bit. All of this sneaking around wasn't really his thing, and he was rather surprised at how well it had gone.

Once they had reached the end of the hallway, Alistair craned his head around and gave his companions a victorious smile. Placing a hand on the brass knob, Alistair opened the door leading into the foyer and stepped into the foyer…

…and froze in place.

The room was full of armed soldiers. Alistair counted at least a score of men barring the double-doors of the main entrance. Each man was armed with both sword and shield, but Alistair could see that several of the guards were wielding bows in addition. Unlike the sloppy guards that had been lazing about the Arl's estate, these men held themselves with the focused competence of professional soldiers. At the forefront of the group, two armored figures stood apart from the rest of the warriors.

Alistair instantly recognized the woman on the left. Ser Cauthrien looked no different than she had when he had first met her at Ostagar. Tall for a woman, she wore an unadorned suit of plate with the relative ease of someone used to the weight. Her brown hair was pulled up into a short ponytail to reveal handsome features and earnest eyes. Protruding over her left shoulder, the ornate hilt of the fabled Summer Sword glinted in the flickering light of the torches. She was Loghain's most trusted confidant, and her prowess in battle was all but legendary.

Although he had only heard descriptions of Rendon Howe, Alistair somehow knew that the man standing to Cauthrien's right was the supposed Arl of Denerim. He had a slimly look that was reinforced by his lank mop of white hair and gaunt features. Where Cauthrien simply looked determined, Howe's face was twisted into an unpleasant smirk that made Alistair want to punch something.

Slowly trailing his eyes along the wall of soldiers, Alistair released a breath. "…Balls."

"I will take that to mean you understand your situation." Howe leered at the party as he spoke. "Lay down your arms and surrender."

Alistair stepped into the room and heard the others following behind him. Holding up his hands when several archers leveled their bows at him, Alistair forced himself not to remain calm. There was a way out of this. He just had to count on Ser Cauthrien's sense of honor. "We are operating on behalf of the Grey Wardens. Under the statues of the Neutrality Agreement, only a presiding monarch can order our arrest. Am I to understand that you are acting for the Crown?"

"No need for that," Howe folded his arms over his chest. "Loghain is a busy man and I wouldn't want to trouble him with a few vermin. Tell me: did you really think that this would work? That fool Eamon isn't the only one with a few spies. We knew what you were up to before you did."

Ser Cauthrien gave Howe a sharp look before addressing Alistair in a formal tone. "The Teyrn has ordered that you be arrested for trespassing and attempted kidnapping. As Lord Regent of Ferelden, his word may be equated to that of a monarch's."

Alistair smiled thinly. "True, but that is only if he isn't contradicted by an _actual_ monarch. Your Highness, would you mind stepping in?"

He turned and held out a hand to draw Ser Cauthrien's attention to the Queen. Stepping away from her position at the center of the group, Anora moved away from the party with a few quick strides before rushing towards Ser Cauthrien with a terrified expression on her face.

"Ser Cauthrien! Thank the Maker you are here!" Anora stabbed a finger in Alistair's direction. "This brigand is trying to capture me!"

Alistair felt his jaw drop. "What!"

Behind him, Zevran heaved a breathy sigh. "Lovely, resourceful, and a traitorous bitch….Oh, but I am falling in love."

"It would seem that the Wardens have sunk to new lows." Ser Cauthrien gestured for Queen Anora to get behind the wall of guards. "Well then, unless you wish to incriminate yourself further, I would suggest you surrender yourselves and spare any unnecessary bloodshed."

Pushing down his outrage at Anora's rapid betrayal, Alistair paused for a moment to consider the options. In an effort to stall for time, he gave Ser Cauthrien a nod. "We will be taken for immediate processing at Fort Drakon I presume? It is our right."

"You would think so," Howe cut off whatever response Cauthrien was planning. "However, the Lord Regent takes a dim view of those who would cause his daughter harm. I fear that he has requested we handle this off of the record. I trust you caught a taste of the hospitality of my dungeons?"

A cold feeling trickled down Alistair's spine as he thought back to those dark tunnels and the horrors within. Despair seized him for a few brief instants as he silently regarded the overwhelming number of soldiers that faced them. With Ser Cauthrien and Howe included, it would be five to one odds.

Just as he was about to surrender and pray that Kallian would mount a rescue, Alistair felt something that had escaped his noticed up to this point.

Magic was gathering in the air. To be more precise, Morrigan was surreptitiously calling forth a veritable hurricane of magical energy. Alistair didn't recognize the direction her spell was taking, but his training told him that it was going to be big. Risking a quick glance over his shoulder, he locked eyes with the swamp witch.

Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, but she showed no other outward signs of casting a spell. In spite of the circumstances, he took a moment to privately marvel at how powerful Morrigan actually was. He doubted that there were even a handful of mages who could draw this much magic without using their staves as a conduit.

Morrigan smiled when he met her gaze, and Alistair was suddenly struck with the unshakable certainty that all hell was about to break loose.

Howe's voice drifted over from across the room. "This is your last chance to surrender peacefully."

The acrid smell of ozone filled the hall like a grim herald of what was to come. As he turned back to face Ser Cauthrien, Alistair felt the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stand up. Everyone else was beginning to notice these things even if they didn't understand what they meant. Bracing himself as he felt Morrigan's spell approach its fruition, Alistair watched as sudden realization spread over Ser Cauthrien's face.

"One of them is a mage! Kill th—."

Her words were lost as Morrigan's spell snapped into being. In a cataclysmic explosion of light and sound, the room was plunged into chaos.

Spheres of light burst out of thin air and rocketed through the room at a speed that was too swift to follow. Varying between small, dust-like specks and orbs as large as a man's head, the glowing spheres hummed and crackled as they shot in every direction. The display was so dazzling that it took Alistair a moment to realize the horrifying damage that was being wrought. Every time one of the balls struck against a surface, an intense charge of energy suddenly erupted at the point of contact. All around them, chunks of stone were torn from the walls in great clouds of razor-sharp fragments. The air was soon choked with dust, and the light from the spheres illuminated the particles like fairy-fire in a misty swamp.

Amidst this confusion, men were dying.

The oily stench of burning flesh rose to accompany the screams of agony as Morrigan's spell ripped into the soldiers. Their deaths were awful things. The hissing spheres blackened flesh, tore limbs from bodies, and sent men into violent convulsions as the eldritch energy coursed its way through their bodies. Alistair saw one man's head simply vanish in a shower of red mist.

For nearly ten seconds, the disaster raged around the party. Alistair flinched when several of the shining orbs shot towards them, but each time, the balls vanished several feet from where they stood. Even the shrapnel from the walls was mysteriously stopping before it could hit them. Checking back on Morrigan, Alistair saw that she was in the midst of some chant. He assumed that she was warding them from the horror she had created.

"Maker's mercy…" Alistair breathed out the oath as he stared at the devastation. He wasn't sure whether to be amazed or horrified. Morrigan was more powerful than he had ever imagined, and all he could think about was how glad he was that she was on their side.

The furious storm of energy vanished a bare second later. Morrigan fell silent and sank down to the floor as she let the ward drop. Lifting her head, the witch coughed a few times and gestured weakly at the carnage in front of them. "'Tis not finished. Take them while they are stunned."

Shaking off his own shock, Alistair drew his sword and moved forward. In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Sten lowering the wounded Warden to the floor. Certain that the qunari would follow in due time, Alistair swept his gaze around the room to assess the situation.

Most of the men in the foyer were dead or dying. The few who looked like they might live were in no condition to fight. Among those on the floor, Arl Howe was little more than a mangled corpse. Ser Cauthrien had somehow survived, but the knight had a nasty wound on her temple that had probably been the result of a flying hunk of stone. In spite of this, the woman was struggling to rise off of her back. Her sword had fallen from her hand, and it lay several feet from where she lay. Motioning for Sten and Zevran to halt, Alistair sheathed his sword and walked over to her.

"Just stay down," Alistair knelt beside her and gently pushed her shoulders back to the floor. Cauthrien groped for her sword's hilt, but Alistair used his free hand to nudge the weapon away from her grasp. "Be reasonable, you aren't in any condition to fight."

She glared up at him with bleary eyes and spoke in a slightly slurred voice. "You will pay for what happened here."

"I'm sure I will." Alistair hardened his expression as he stared back at her. "Right after Loghain pays for what happened at Ostagar. I want you to tell him that the Grey Wardens haven't forgotten his treachery."

"He did..." Ser Cauthrien blinked a few times and seemed to lose focus for a second. "He did...what was necessary to save Ferelden."

Alistair straightened up and spoke in a quiet tone. "He killed his king and his countrymen. That makes him a traitor and a coward."

Ser Cauthrien didn't reply. Alistair glanced down to see that the woman had lost consciousness. Shaking his head, Alistair walked back over to Sten and Zevran. While the elf was studying the room with casual disinterest, Sten was staring at the damage with a perturbed look on his normally-blank features. Alistair didn't have to guess what was bothering Sten. The qunari was open about his distrust of magic, and this had been the most terrifying display Alistair had ever seen. Clearing his throat to get their attention, Alistair jerked a thumb over at the main entrance.

"C'mon, we need to get moving right now. There will be soldiers and Templars here soon."

"What about the survivors?" Zevran indicated the men who were writhing on the floor. "They will be witnesses."

"It doesn't matter. Loghain wanted to play this one off the books. If he accuses us after the fact, we'll just demand evidence." Alistair turned his attention over to where Morrigan had yet to rise from the floor. "Tell me we did not just kill the Queen by accident?"

Zevran shook his head in denial. "She slipped out of the doors the moment the guards turned their backs. She was long gone before that little nightmare began."

"Good. They wouldn't be able to ignore regicide." Alistair sighed as he surveyed the carnage. "Loghain will want to sweep this under the rug. Howe was unpopular, and unless Anora publically denounces us, Loghain won't have enough to bring formal charges against anyone."

"She might do just that."

Alistair grimaced. "Then we will claim we were never here and let Loghain try to prove otherwise. Speaking of which: grab the Warden and let's go."

Sten nodded and stomped off towards the spot where he had left the prisoner. Trading a look with Zevran, Alistair hurried over to where Morrigan was sitting. They needed to start moving immediately, and the witch seemed in no hurry to rise. Once he had reached her, he knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

"We need to move. Are you ready?"

Morrigan gave a jerky nod and planted the butt of her staff on the ground. Using it for support, she tried to stand up without much success. She was obviously worn out from casting her spells, and Alistair realized that she would never be able to keep up with them like this. Before he could convince himself that it was unwise, Alistair bent down and picked Morrigan up in his arms. She made a surprised and indignant sound, but she did not struggle against his grip. Carrying her bridal-style, Alistair started walking over to rejoin Zevran and Sten.

"Sorry about this," He gave her a sheepish look. "We don't really have any time to spare. You can poison my ale or something once we're out of this place."

Morrigan stared back at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "...'Tis necessary. I would not have been able to leave on my own accord. You are not to blame for recognizing this."

"Oh, okay then."

After falling in with Sten and Zevran, Alistair led the way to what remained of the main entrance. Morrigan's spell had ripped the wooden doors to pathetic shreds, and the sight of them made Alistair shiver. He didn't want to let his mind dwell on what had happened here. Morrigan had saved their lives in the most terrible way imaginable.

As he stepped out into the cold night air, Alistair found himself sneaking glances down at the woman in his arms. Even in her borrowed suit of armor, Morrigan did not look like someone capable of massacring twenty people in few seconds. It had been a sobering reminder that for all of her beauty, Morrigan was a tremendously dangerous individual.

Averting his eyes when she glanced up at him, Alistair checked his surroundings before heading off to the right. They had used a side entrance to infiltrate the castle, and with any luck, it would still be available to them now. From various points in the distance, Alistair could hear the clamor of raised voices as guards and servants all tried to figure out what had happened. It wouldn't be long before someone discovered the foyer, and then the Arl's estate was going to be overrun by Loghain's men.

Alistair intended to be miles away when that happened.

…

xxXxx

Nearly eight hours later, Alistair collapsed into the chair behind his desk and rubbed at his eyes with both hands. He only just gotten the opportunity to change out of his armor, and the relief of wearing something comfortable was making him sleepy.

There were no words to describe how weary he felt. Ever since returning from that catastrophe of a rescue mission, Alistair had been rushing to set things right. The hardest part had been trying to pacify Eamon. The Arl of Redcliffe had been horrified at the way things had gone with the Queen. Somehow deciding that this was Alistair's fault, the Arl had launched into a tirade of epic proportions. After listening to Eamon rant for nearly an hour, Alistair had finally snapped and started yelling back.

Things might have escalated to blows if it hadn't been for the timely arrival of one of Eamon's spies. In a development that none of them could have predicted, it turned out that the chaos at Howe's estate had miraculously worked in their favor.

Just as Alistair had thought, the Chantry had swiftly mobilized in response to the tremendous outpour of magic that Morrigan had produced. In less than twenty minutes, a full platoon of Templars had arrived at Howe's estate and demanded entry. The remnants of Howe's household guard had attempted to deny them entry, but the Chantry's soldiers had not backed down. Using the very real possibility of an Abomination to justify their intrusion, the Templars had invoked divine jurisdiction and forced their way onto the grounds.

Although they had found no apostates, the Templars had not left empty-handed.

It turned out that the prisoners in Howe's dungeons had not been simple criminals. In fact, none of them had committed any crimes aside from disagreeing with Loghain. When all was said and done, the Templars pulled just under thirty political prisoners from the cages and torture chambers underneath the estate's grounds.

Already, this terrible revelation had caused a political outcry of incredible magnitude. Many of the prisoners had turned out to be members of noble house who had mysteriously disappeared overnight. One of the freed prisoners was even related to Bann Alfstanna. A Templar to boot, the delirious man had been abducted by Howe's soldiers after he had been sent to track down a blood mage.

Not just any blood mage either; he had apparently been tracking the very same mage who had tried to poison Arl Eamon.

Taken collectively, it was the most incriminating wealth of evidence imaginable. Loghain had been left with no choice but to denounce the late Howe and claim complete ignorance of everything. It may have been enough to keep a lynch mob from forming, but Loghain's reputation had taken a serious blow. Arl Eamon had already received a number of envoys from various nobles that subtly expressed support. In one night, their fortunes had changed completely.

In addition, any chance of Loghain pursuing them for kidnapping or any other crime had vanished. He couldn't risk associating himself any further with Howe, and it would be interesting to see him try to explain Anora's presence in the Howe's estate.

No, Loghain would just have to accept this loss. Any investigation or inquiry would be tantamount to political suicide.

So, in retrospect, Alistair had to admit that they had come out ahead. That didn't mean that anything was certain as of yet. Loghain was still a popular figure, and Anora had vanished from sight. Whether or not the two of them were working together was unclear, but Alistair now knew that Anora was not an ally.

Still, Bann Alfstanna had come to Arl Eamon's estate in person to outright declare her support for Alistair. She was fiery woman with a strong sense of honor, and her brother's mistreatment had made her absolutely livid. Alistair didn't know how the Bann knew that he was responsible for Howe's death, but she had thanked him personally and promised her vote when the time came.

With Arl Eamon and Bann Alfstanna on his side, Alistair now had two of the five necessary votes. Their request for a Landsmeet had been approved, and the date was set for two weeks from tomorrow. The only presiding member who would not be attending was the Arl of Denerim. This was on account of him being very much dead.

Along with several other corpses, a badly-decomposed body had been found in Howe's dungeon. Based on the signet ring found on the corpse's finger, it appeared as though Howe had replaced his predecessor in a violent way. The previous Arl had only produced one heir: a son who had been murdered several months prior.

Even though this lack of an heir would work against Alistair, he found that he didn't mind very much. He knew enough about Kallian's past to draw his own conclusions about the Arl's murdered son. As far as Alistair was concerned, that rapist bastard got what he deserved.

Unfortunately, it meant that Loghain would now be appointing a successor to the title. Without question, he would appoint someone who would support him unconditionally. It meant that no matter what, one of the Landsmeet votes would be against Alistair. It wasn't an insurmountable disadvantage, but it would complicate things.

A firm knock sounded against his door.

Alistair suppressed a groan. If it was Eamon coming to talk about political alliances again, Alistair was going to lose his mind. Pulling his hands away from his face, Alistair heaved a sigh and turned the chair so that he was facing the door. "Come in."

There was a short pause, and then the door open to admit Morrigan into his rooms. The witch had fallen asleep before they had even reached the estate, and Alistair was a little surprised to see her up and about. Overextending one's magic was a bit like running a marathon in full armor. Most mages would be laid out for a day or two after exerting themselves like Morrigan had.

"Hey," Alistair managed a tired smile. "Glad to see that you're doing better."

Morrigan glided over to stand in front of his desk. There was something different about her, and Alistair realized that this was the first time he had seen her without her staff. Tilting her head in acknowledgement, she replied in an uncharacteristically polite fashion. "I am much recovered. You have my thanks for the sentiment."

Alistair raised a brow. This was not how their conversations typically began. Sensing a trap, he sat up straighter in the chair to give her his full attention. "Sure...so, what's up?"

"I wished to speak with you." Morrigan folded her arms across her chest and gave him a measuring look. "If now is an inconvenient time, I would understand."

"Now is fine, I guess." Alistair scratched the side of his head and then used his hand to indicate the two chairs that stood on the opposite side of the desk. "Err...would you like to have a seat?"

"I would."

As Morrigan situated herself in one of the cushioned chairs, Alistair couldn't help but notice how out of place she looked in this room. The small office was one part of the quarters Arl Eamon had provided for him. Much like the adjoining bedroom, the office was modestly-sized and decorated with elegant wooden furniture. In accordance with the cold weather, Eamon's servants had laid fur rugs down over the stone floor and filled the room's brazier with hot coals. In her cobbled-together outfit adorned with feathers and small charms of bone and wood, Morrigan stood out in stark contrast. Against the lavish backdrop of the room, she was like an island of untamed wilderness.

Alistair waited for Morrigan to start speaking, but she seemed content to study a mostly-empty bookcase along the western wall. Drumming his fingers against the desk as the silence stretched on, Alistair finally cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind. "Did you happen to notice that Kallian and Leliana aren't around?"

"I did." Morrigan's yellow eyes snapped back to stare at him. "I assume that they might be found in some private corner."

Alistair shook his head. "They aren't in the estate and they didn't see fit to tell anyone where they might have gone."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Alistair leaned over the desk and gave her a teasing smirk. "Are you sure that you didn't ask Kallian to bump off a distant cousin of yours or something? She apparently just sneaks away and does that kind of thing if you ask her nicely."

To his surprise, Morrigan smiled back. "No, I have asked her nothing of the sort. Wherever they are, they are there for their own reasons."

"That actually makes me worry more." He shook his head and settled back into his chair. "So, what is that you wanted to talk about? Is it about what happened today? I never got a chance to thank you for that."

Morrigan gave him a blank look. "Thank me?"

"Well, yeah," Alistair shrugged his shoulders. "You saved us with that spell. It was quick thinking and pretty damn impressive."

She blinked a few times before nodding. "You are welcome."

Alistair waited for her to continue, but Morrigan didn't seem inclined to speak. Fidgeting in a way that reminded him of Kallian, the witch glanced around the room before settling on the bookcase once more. Following her gaze, Alistair realized that she wasn't staring at the bookcase so much as she was staring at what was on one of the shelves.

When he had first settled into these rooms, Alistair had made a sole concession to making the space his own. On an impulse, he had carefully arranged all of the figures he had carved during their travels on top of the uppermost shelf. While there were a few on display that he wasn't necessarily proud of, it had seemed like as good a place as any for his hobby. Even Morrigan's creepy monster statue had made its way up there with the others. It may be a bit grotesque, but it was marvelous craftsmanship and Alistair had thought it to be appropriate.

Alistair turned his attention back to Morrigan when the witch let out a frustrated sound and stood up. Shooting Alistair a narrow-eyed glare, she huffed and turned around so that her back was facing him. The sudden change in demeanor completely baffled Alistair. She had gone from pleasant to irritated in a heartbeat, and he had no idea what had triggered the shift.

"Hey Morrigan?" He spoke in a hesitant tone. Dealing with an upset woman was probably the one thing he was worst at. "Is everything…uh, alright?"

Morrigan didn't respond at first. She inhaled and then released a long breath. After a pause that stretched out for a few beats, she slowly turned around and fixed him with another glare. Flinging her arms out on either side of her body, she spat out an exasperated reply. "Am I displeasing?"

"Uhhhh…" Alistair stared back at her and wondered if he had heard incorrectly. "...What?"

"'Tis not a difficult question. A simple 'yes' or 'no' would suffice." Morrigan scoffed and then swept her hands in front of her body in an encompassing gesture. "Am I displeasing?"

Alistair was very confused. Unsure of whether or not this was a bizarre trick question of some sort, he studied Morrigan carefully in an attempt to gauge what was going on. She looked perfectly serious, and it was clear that she expected a response of some sort. Deciding that there wasn't a graceful way to escape this question, Alistair considered his reply.

She was beautiful. There really wasn't any other way to describe her. Even in a room full of the loveliest women in Thedas, Morrigan would stand out like a hawk amongst doves. There was an ethereal quality to her appeal that tugged at something in Alistair that even he couldn't identify. Whenever he looked at her, an aspect of his mind quietly acknowledged her beauty. She could be saying the cruelest thing imaginable, and yet that part of him would still be drawn to her.

It didn't help that her robes revealed an incredibly distracting amount of skin. Even though it would take countless hours of torture before Alistair would ever admit it out loud, he had spent more than a few nights thinking about Morrigan in ways that would not be considered appropriate. He doubted that there were many red-blooded men in Ferelden who wouldn't do the same.

Realizing that his thought process had brought him into bizarre territory, Alistair shook himself back into the present. Seeing that Morrigan was still waiting for an answer, Alistair mentally shrugged and decided to tell the truth. "You're not displeasing, Morrigan. In fact, you're pretty much the exact opposite of displeasing."

He expected that to make her happy, but Morrigan's eyebrows simply drew together in what looked like consternation. "Would you say that I am intelligent?"

"Of course, almost to a fault." Alistair scratched the side of his head in puzzlement. "What's this abou-"

"And I'm sure you would agree that I am capable." Morrigan cut him off without even seeming to notice that he had spoken. "Today must have proved that in some way."

Wondering if this was just an incredibly overt way of fishing for compliments, Alistair nodded in agreement. "I don't think that anyone could say that you aren't competent. You may be the most powerful mage I've ever met."

Morrigan tossed up her hands and released a frustrated growl. "So if all that is true, then why is it that you refuse my advances?"

It took Alistair's brain a few seconds to process that statement.

"Errm…a-advances?" Alistair reared back in his chair in a confused panic. "What do you mean by advances?"

"I should have known 'twould be a mistake to heed their advice." Morrigan scoffed and glared over at the statues on the bookcase. "Clearly, it did not work as they claimed it would."

"Advice? They?" Alistair shook his head and held up a hand. "Wait, could we back up a few steps?"

Morrigan gave him an impatient look. "I was led to believe that 'tis customary to exchange gifts when beginning a courtship. I had assumed that as you spend so much time fiddling with your statues, you would appreciate another one."

Alistair glanced over at the creepy figurine. "So, that was just a gift?"

"Of course, what else might it be?"

"Well, I don't know." Alistair decided not to bring up his original theories regarding curses and whatnot. Speaking each word carefully, he tried to wrap his head around what was going on at the moment. "Okay…um, I'm sorry, but I'm stuck on the word 'courtship'. Are you saying that you are interested…in me?"

Morrigan inclined her head in a jerky motion. "In a sense."

"Okay," Alistair exhaled in a slow hiss. "And…the way you expressed this was by giving me that statue?"

"'Twas either that or alcohol." Morrigan cleared her throat in a way that struck Alistair as nervous. "My thought was that you would enjoy the statue more."

Standing up because he was finding it hard to just sit in the chair, Alistair walked over to the bookshelf and picked up the figurine in question. Smiling slightly as he marveled at just how ugly it was, Alistair glanced over at Morrigan.

"That was really thoughtful of you, Morrigan." Alistair was surprised at how touched he felt. It had been ages since anyone had thought to give him a gift. The last time he could remember had been when Duncan had given him a new sword on the night of his Joining. "I'm sorry I didn't say so sooner."

"I am glad you find it agreeable." Morrigan nodded once and flexed her fingers before balling her hands into fists at her sides. "I fear I have no talent for woodwork, so I endeavored to create it with magic. 'Twas harder than I anticipated, and I was forced to destroy my first few attempts before I could form a good likeness."

"That explains the level of detail." Alistair examined the statue with a critical eye. "It's really quite impressive. Even though I've only seen pictures, I have to say this looks exactly like a Pride Demon."

"Demon?" Morrigan cocked her head and gave him a puzzled look. "'Tis a representation of you."

"Hmm?...Oh!...Yes, of course it is!" Alistair stared down at the statue as he scrambled to gloss over his blunder. Seen in a new light, the spiky protrusions from the statue's head revealed themselves to be the arches of a crown. Why the figure itself looked like the bastard son of a qunari and pig was anyone's guess. "I was just commenting on the…artistic impression it conveys. Kind of a…uh…sinister 'demon-y' type appeal that sheds light on the prideful nature of...um….the uh,..You know, I love it. It's lovely, Morrigan."

The witch looked pleased. "I am glad."

"Thank you again," Alistair set the figure back on the shelf and turned around to face Morrigan. "It was a really nice gesture."

Morrigan nodded in response. They stared at each other quietly for a few moments. Aware that things were going to get very uncomfortable if neither of them spoke, Alistair coughed just to make a sound and then walked over to stand a few feet from the mage. Unsure of where to go from this point, he shrugged sheepishly.

"You know, I'll be the first to admit that subtly is wasted on me, but I'm a bit surprised." He smiled in an attempt to hide his nerves. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but most of the time it seems like you can't even stand me."

"I am…aware of this." Morrigan folded her arms. "I have a tendency to focus on the negative attributes in those I interact with. Although I do find you to be headstrong and occasionally foolish, 'twould not be accurate to say that I only view you in such a light. You are better educated than many, and you've proved that your decisions are not entirely without merit."

Alistair blinked. "Ah."

"In addition, there is a certain appeal to your sentimental view of loyalty. Back when we were ambushed on the road, you helped me at risk to yourself." Morrigan paused and then gave him a prim look. "You are also not entirely unattractive."

"Stop, before I start blushing."

Morrigan sniffed. "Does there have to be a reason? I simply feel a certain way and wish to act upon it. If my advances are unwanted, I will drop the matter."

She gave him an expectant look, and Alistair realized that she had just prompted him for a response. It was a little sudden, and Alistair had to take a moment to gather his scattered thoughts.

His first impulse was to simply apologize and say that he didn't feel the same attraction. While that wasn't true, it was the safer option. There was absolutely no telling where a relationship with Morrigan might go, but Alistair was confident that it would be unfamiliar territory. He had a Blight to worry about, and there was a good chance this type of thing would be distracting and probably painful.

Yet, he was very attracted to the woman in front of him. Beyond that, Alistair genuinely liked a number of things about Morrigan's personality. She was witty and clever, and her insults had lost much of the venom they had once held. She had lowered some of her barriers during their journey, and Alistair had caught glimpses of her softer side.

The gift was one thing. None of the others had even recognized the fact that he liked carving, and then Morrigan had gone and given him a very eccentric gift. What was more, Alistair found himself thinking back to the day he had gone to his sister's house. Morrigan's comfort had been a little brusque, but the right thoughts had been there.

While she wasn't the easiest person to get along with, he mostly enjoyed her company. He was impressed by her self-confidence, even when she was being particularly irritating about her opinions. While he wasn't in love or struck by the crazy, head-over-heels affection that one might find in sappy poetry, Alistair was drawn to Morrigan.

So, after weighing his options for a few seconds, Alistair realized that he wanted to give it a try. If it worked out badly, he could always chalk it up to a learning experience. The Blight was still a priority, but he figured that there would be a little room for something personal. Feeling good about his decision, Alistair tried to think of something charming to say in response to her unasked question.

"Well, uh…I am, you know, interested in you also…and stuff."

Smooth. Real smooth.

Amazingly, his clunky response seemed to do the trick. Morrigan unfolded her arms and gave him a smile. It wasn't the sharp smirk she usually wore. It was a faint, pleased expression that was almost shocking in its delicacy. Alistair couldn't help smiling in response.

Morrigan dipped her head in a decisive fashion. "I am glad that is the case."

"Yep."

They lapsed into a shy, embarrassed silence that wasn't as awkward as it should have been. Having no experience with this type of thing, Alistair was uncertain of where to go from here. Now that they had brought everything out into the open, he felt as though there had to be a follow-up of some kind.

Drawing upon his vague notion of what courtship entailed, Alistair decided to ask Morrigan to do something with him. Denerim wasn't exactly a fun place to be at the moment, but maybe they could go on a walk or something. Whatever they did, it would have to be more comfortable then staring blankly at one another.

"So," He took a few steps towards her in an attempt to alleviate the bizarrely formal atmosphere that had settled in the room. "If you aren't doing anything right now, I was thinking that we could go and get some—mmmghmfh!"

His words were abruptly cut off when Morrigan yanked him down into a violent kiss. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, she slammed her body against his with an approving growl. It was a hungry and wild display of passion, and Alistair was completely unprepared for it.

It took him a good five seconds to even respond to the kiss. He had no experience with this kind of thing, but Morrigan didn't seem all that preoccupied with technique. The witch was rubbing against him in a way that Alistair couldn't possibly ignore, and the myriad of new sensations was making him feel lightheaded.

Also, he had no idea of what to do with his hands.

Eventually, he just sort of wrapped his arms around her lower back in a way that he hoped wouldn't offend her. Now that the initial shock had passed, he was beginning to see why people made such a big deal over this kind of thing. Morrigan was a pleasantly-warm weight in his arms, and Alistair very much enjoyed the soft feeling of her body as she pressed against him. He was even beginning to slowly grasp the concept of kissing.

Seeming to sense the fact that he was relaxing, Morrigan's death-grip on the back of his neck finally began to ease up. With a bit more freedom, Alistair began to tentatively experiment with guiding the course of the action. Morrigan didn't seem to mind when he tugged her closer, so Alistair brought one hand up to support her head as their kiss became more natural. Morrigan smelled like a forest after a fresh rainfall, and Alistair felt a giddy rush when she moaned softly into his mouth.

By the time they had finally broken apart for air, he was completely on board with the whole "kissing thing". Wanting to do something that he had always sort of fanaticized about, he pushed Morrigan towards his desk and lifted her so that she was seated on the edge. It brought them to eye-level, and Alistair felt like it was a manly and decisive thing to do.

Morrigan adapted to the change without missing a beat. Wrapping her legs around the back of his thighs, she immediately lunged forward to resume where they had left off. Her excitement was contagious, and Alistair found himself responding on a basic level to her actions. A distant part of his mind noted that this was always how he had pictured an encounter with Morrigan. She was equal parts sensual and savage. It was not unlike embracing a furious storm.

It took him by surprise when Morrigan eventually jerked away from the kiss with an impatient sound. Before he could ask if something was wrong, she had already slid off the desk in a liquid motion. Grapping his hand, she started tugging him across the room.

"Morrigan?" He blinked a few times to clear his mind. "Where are we going?"

She glanced back at him with yellow eyes that practically smoldered. "Your bed."

Those two words made Alistair stop in his tracks. A curious mixture of excitement and terror welled up in his breast as he realized what she had planned. In spite of the fact that he had spent the last ten years of his life imagining what this moment would be like, part of him was suddenly frightened at how rapidly this was progressing.

However conflicted his mind may be, his body did not share in his indecision. His abrupt introduction to the world of romance had left him aroused in every possible sense of the word. Instinct and a decade of pent-up sexual energy were telling him to shut his mouth and follow Morrigan. Unfortunately, Alistair's brain got in the way.

"Uhh…Morrigan?" He tried to think of a good way to express his concerns. "Well, I've never…err...well..."

Morrigan gave him an annoyed look as he let his words trail off. "Never what?"

Alistair cast about for a suitable euphemism. "I never lost my…you know."

"Your innocence?"

"Not quite the word I would have used, but yeah."

Morrigan clucked her tongue. "Have you ever lost a sock?"

"…yes?"

She gave him a sharp smile. "Then you shall find that the experience is just about as profound, albeit infinitely more enjoyable."

Alistair considered her words for a moment. Aside from the fact that the Chantry had spent hours hammering the importance of abstinence into his skull, he really couldn't think of a compelling reason to not go with Morrigan. He had never pictured his first time like this, but if there was one thing he was relatively certain of, it was that life rarely turns out in the manner one expects it to.

So, he just raised an eyebrow. "Like losing a sock, huh?"

"In a cosmic sense." Morrigan began to tug on his arm once again. This time, Alistair didn't resist as they passed through the threshold into his bedroom. "Do not give it too much thought. I intend that we both find our pleasure tonight, and I am well aware that thinking pains you."

Alistair laughed aloud and shut the door behind them.

…

xxXxx

* * *

I've spent the last two weeks immersed in Germanic Romance, so my brain is fried. All I can say is that the next chapter will focus on what Kallian and Leliana have been up to while all of this was going on. Other than that, please leave a review and thanks so much to everyone for reading!


	38. Old Flame

**A/N:** I know it has been a while since the last update, but here's the thing about this chapter: it's really loooooonnnnng.

Chapter 38: Old Flame

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

…

After almost two hours of sitting on a freezing rooftop, Leliana was at the end of her patience.

She was a few minutes away from simply giving up for the evening. Staking out a target's residence had always been her least favorite part of a job. It was an utterly monotonous activity that was made tolerable only because it was so crucial to the larger picture. What made it worse was that Leliana had never had the misfortune of having to stalk a target in the middle of a Ferelden winter. The wind was cutting right through her furs, and the icy slates of the roof below her had slowly leeched the warmth from her body. She was achy and cold, and she wanted nothing more than to meet up with Kallian and Isabela so that they could all get out of here.

The thought made her glance off to the east even though she couldn't see very far in the dim moonlight. Kallian and Captain Isabela were concealed in a tiny alley some 400 yards from where she was perched. As part of their agreement, the pirate was staying with them until Leliana got some sort of confirmation that Marjolaine was actually living where Isabela claimed that she was. Isabela hadn't been happy with this arrangement, but Kallian had been firm in saying that there would be no trade unless Isabela's information was good.

Thus, the only real solution had been to take a seat and wait for some proof to come along.

Collectively, the three of them were able to watch all parts of the street at once. The house was located in the posh Highland district of Denerim, so there wasn't too much foot traffic at this hour. Leliana had seen a few guardsmen walk by, but nothing that would suggest Marjolaine's presence. There was light coming from one of the second-story windows of the house in question, but the curtains were drawn so that Leliana couldn't see inside. At the very least, it suggested the house was inhabited. Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly enough to convince Leliana that Marjolaine was here.

In fact, the only reason Leliana had stuck with it this long was that the house they were watching looked like something Marjolaine would choose.

It was large two-story house made from neat blocks of grey stone. A security gate encircled the house, but it was too small to be anything aside from simply decoration. Unlike many of the houses in Denerim, the architecture was clearly inspired by Orlesian trends. Where Fereldans tended to favor squat and sturdy buildings, Orlesian architecture was far more extravagant when it came to both size and ornamentation. With a carved relief dominating its facade, the building in front of Leliana stood out from the others. That type of thing would appeal to Marjolaine's taste. She had a weakness for opulence that she rarely overcame.

The house was also rather isolated. There was a good 20 yards of space between the outside of the security fence and the next house on the street. Large privacy hedges grew up over the top of the fence to hide the grounds from prying eyes. If some form of discreet business needed to take place here, it was unlikely that neighbors would see or hear anything.

A flash of movement down in the street made her tense up. Her boredom and misery were forgotten as she leaned forward in an attempt to get a better look. Straining her eyes, she was rewarded when she caught sight of a large figure as it moved down the cobblestone path.

The man's face was completely obscured by the deep shadows, but Leliana recognized him in an instant. While there were plenty of big men in Ferelden, there wasn't a single one who could move like Marcel. The eunuch may look a living mountain, but he moved with all the silent grace of a cat. Shrinking back from the edge of the roof just in case Marcel was feeling cautious, Leliana experienced a thrill of anticipation as she watched Marjolaine's manservant slipped across the street like a hulking shadow.

As she had hoped, Marcel moved through the gate and onto the house's small yard. She wished for a brief moment that she had her bow with her. Marcel was a very dangerous man, and Leliana would have preferred to kill him from a long ways away. Unfortunately, she had left her bow with Kallian's sword back at the Arl's Estate. There was no way to be discreet with a hunting bow strapped to one's back, and so they had left their larger weapons behind when they went to visit Ser Couldry.

So, Leliana simply watched as the eunuch vanished into the house. She had all the information she needed now. Where Marjolaine went, Marcel wasn't far behind.

She waited a few more minutes before breaking away from the dormer that she had been using to conceal her presence. Moving carefully upon the slippery slates, Leliana prowled across the rooftop and headed in the direction of the alley where she had left Kallian and Isabela. The buildings on this side of the street were spaced relatively-close together, and she was able to leap from roof-to-roof easily. A jittery rush of excitement coursed through her as she went. She had been preparing for this for far too long.

Even though Kallian wouldn't like it, Leliana wanted to do this tonight.

As she drew close to her destination, she heard the sound of two voices raised in what sounded like an argument. Intrigued in spite of the situation, Leliana slowed down and crept to the edge of the roof to listen in. She couldn't see Kallian or Isabela due to the darkness, but their voices carried well enough.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you probably wouldn't be so cold if you were wearing more clothes. Let's face it: what you're wearing is pretty impractical for the weather."

"It's not about what's _practical_." Captain Isabela sounded like she was trying to explain something to a young child. "It's about taking hold of your sexuality and letting the world know that you don't give a damn no matter what gets thrown at you. I know exactly what I am, and I won't a little bit of snow keep me from showing it."

"Uh-huh." Kallian sounded profoundly unimpressed. "So that's why you're walking around with all you're naughty bits hanging out?"

"What's the point of having naughty bits if no one ever sees them?

"I guess, but there's a time and place for everything. If we were on a beach or something, your outfit would be completely understandable." There was a shuffling sound as either Kallian or Isabela moved about down below. "Even then, I'd still feel weird about dressing up like that. It has to make you a little uncomfortable to walk into a tavern looking like that."

"Why should it? I like the attention." Isabela made an amused sound before continuing. "Besides, sometimes it's to your advantage to know what a man's mind is focused on. If he's busy staring at your tits, than you know he isn't watching your hands. It comes in handy when you're cheating him at cards or something to the effect."

"There are more effective ways to distract a mark."

"Is that right?" The pirate released a throaty chuckle. "I might find that more convincing if your eyes were on my face right now."

There was a long pause and then Kallian made a flustered sound. "It's not my fault. They're right in front of me!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. There's nothing wrong with liking the look of something." Isabela's voice dropped into the low tones of suggestion. "I'd even go so far as to encourage the attention."

Kallian mumbled something that was indecipherable. Whatever it was, it made Isabela laugh aloud.

"I don't believe that for a second." The pirate made a soft sound of consideration. "You know, if you're so worried about my health, you could always stop by the ship after this and help me warm up. I just redecorated my cabin and the bed is more comfortable than you would believe."

"What?"

"You know what I said."

Kallian coughed roughly. "Umm…no, no thanks."

"Alright, but the offer's open." Isabela chuckled once more. "Just know that you haven't lived until you've been with a human woman. Give me two hours and I'll have you sworn off pointy-ears for—"

Deciding that now was as good a time as any to make her presence known, Leliana vaulted off the low rooftop and dropped the twelve-feet to street level. Her landing sent a painful jolt up her legs, but the entrance was dramatic enough to make up for the discomfort. Both Kallian and Isabela whirled about at her sudden appearance.

"Blighted arse!" Isabela breathed out in startled irritation. "Anyone ever teach you that it's rude to sneak up on people?"

Leliana ignored the pirate and turned to Kallian. "The information was good. Marjolaine's manservant just entered the house a few minutes ago."

"Yeah?" Kallian edged over to Leliana as though eager to put space between herself and Isabela. "That's good news. What are we going to do now?"

"I'll tell you what you're going to do." Isabela interjected before Leliana could respond to the elf's question. "You're going to give me that satchel Slim promised. I've been patient enough about all of this, but now I'm ready to be on my way. It's cold as a witch's tit out here."

Kallian shifted and then drew a thin, leather satchel out from beneath her cloak. Taking it eagerly, Isabela held it up for inspection and then slipped it into the pocket of her wool coat. The long garment was the pirate's only concession to the cold weather. Even so, she had left it mostly open at the front to avoid concealing her "naughty bits".

"Wonderful. It was a true pleasure doing business with you ladies."

Leliana turned her attention to Isabela. "This is where we part ways then?"

"Sad isn't it?" The pirate captain placed a theatrical hand to her chest. "But you have what you want, and I have what I want. That marks the end for me."

"Thank you for your help."

"Mmmhmm." Isabela flicked her fingers in a wave as she turned and began walking down the alley. "Oh, and elf girl? My ship's in harbor for another week if you change your mind."

With that, Isabela stepped out of the alley's mouth and disappeared from sight. Leliana waited for a few seconds and then followed after her. Peeking around the edge of the wall, she watched as Isabela made her way down the street. She didn't trust the pirate for a second, and it wouldn't have surprised her to see Isabela turn around and betray them to Marjolaine. However, it looked like Isabela wasn't interested in doing any such thing. After watching the street for a few more seconds, she ducked back into the alley and nearly ran right into Kallian.

"So…uh, you came in at a weird part of the conversation." Kallian was rubbing the side of her head with one hand. "It probably sounded kinda bad, but really it was nothing."

Leliana mentally rolled her eyes. "I know."

"No seriously! She was just being—"

"I know, Kallian." Leliana cut the elf off impatiently. "It was not anything important. Listen, I want to go through with this tonight."

Kallian visibly stiffened. "Tonight? That isn't what we planned on."

"The plan has changed."

"You know that isn't a good idea." Kallian's voice was firm. "If we do this without thinking, then chances are that it will go badly. I get that this is personal for you, but we should ease up for a few days and get some support. I think Zevran would come along at the very least."

Leliana shook her head. There were too many things that could go wrong in that amount of time. "No, I don't want to risk losing this opportunity. Every moment that we delay just increases the chance of Marjolaine catching wind of our presence. While I'm sure that you trust Slim Couldry, I feel as though too many people know about what we are planning. We must act now."

"It's too much of a risk."

"Not for us. We are more than capable of doing this."

"Leliana," Kallian's voice sounded out in a low warning. "People who change the plan end up dead. That's the rule."

Irritation bubbled up in Leliana. She didn't have the time to wait here and try to convince Kallian that she knew what she was doing. Marjolaine was within her reach, and Leliana wanted nothing more than to close this chapter of her life right here and now.

"This is not one of your petty break-ins." Leliana hissed out the words as her patience snapped. "Marjolaine is a bard. There is no guarantee that she will actually use Isabela's ship. She might be gone from the city by tomorrow night. It would not be the first time she's made misleading plans to disguise her real movements."

Kallian drew in an angry breath. Leliana immediately regretted her choice of words, but apologizing would just reinforce Kallian's belief that she was right. When the elf spoke, her voice was husky and full of challenge. "That's all the more reason to approach this carefully. You haven't even seen Marjolaine."

"She's there. I can feel it."

"You aren't thinking straight." Kallian's reflective eyes glinted as they caught a strand of moonlight. "Take a step back and ask yourself what you'd do if it was anyone but Marjolaine."

Leliana ignored the advice. Her mind had been made up the second she had caught sight of Marcel. "Kallian, I'm going to do this tonight. If you do not wish to help me, then I won't ask you to come along."

Her words were purely manipulative. In truth, Leliana doubted that there was any way for her to succeed without Kallian's help. This was going to be a difficult thing even with Kallian at her side, but it would be impossible without the extra support. Silently cursing herself for pushing Kallian into this, Leliana watched as the elf squirmed in discomfort.

"Damn it all, Leliana." Kallian spat out the words bitterly. "This is such a bad idea. Do you even have a plan?"

"We will go in through the back." Leliana kept her tone low and soothing now that Kallian was beginning to cave. "Marjolaine's rooms will be on the second story. It would be best if we dealt with Marcel first. He's not a warrior, but he is very strong and—"

"Whoa, hold up." Kallian cut her off. "How do you know where Marjolaine will be?"

"She'll be on the top floor. No matter where she stays, she always takes the room with the best view."

Kallian scoffed. "What if that's changed since you ran with her?"

"It hasn't."

"You don't know that!" Kallian threw up her hands. "For fuck's sake, Leliana! You're acting like you've never done this before!"

Leliana pressed her lips together and counted to ten slowly. Their discussion was edging dangerously close to an argument, and Leliana could only imagine how much attention they'd attract if they started hissing at one another like feral cats. Finding her composure, she took a deep breath and lowered her voice as she replied.

"I understand your caution. You have every reason to think that I am rushing into this. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I know Marjolaine better than anyone else in Thedas. I spent every waking moment with her for over five years. She is simultaneously the most complicated and the most simplistic person I have ever met. As clever and duplicitous as she might be, she is also a creature of habit. She is arrogant, indulgent, and used to being at an advantage. I can predict her."

Kallian groaned. "I'm going to be a bitch for a second and remind you that you don't have a great history when it comes to predicting her actions."

"Yes, I was deceived." Leliana folded her arms and stared down at Kallian. "Her betrayal dispelled a great number of delusions that I had allowed myself to believe. It let me see her for what she is and nothing more. I no longer fear Marjolaine or what she is capable of."

After a moment of silence, Kallian made a resigned sound. "What about the giant eunuch? Are you afraid of him?"

"Marcel is not to be taken lightly, but he is hardly as threatening as he appears." Leliana sensed that she had won. "We shouldn't have to worry about meeting anyone else inside. Marjolaine has never cared for hired muscle. Even when we employed others, she mostly ignored everyone that she deemed lower than her. I never knew her to invite any of them to stay in the same house as her."

"Except for you."

"I wasn't exactly 'hired muscle'." Leliana looked away from the elf in front of her. "And our relationship was not a typical one."

Kallian didn't respond to that. Instead, the elf folded her hands behind her head and walked back to the mouth of the alley. Peering over at the house across the street, Kallian took a few moments before turning back to face Leliana. "You're sure it will just be the two of them?"

"I'm almost certain." Leliana felt a flutter of excitement rise up in her chest. "It will be a fair fight even if things somehow go wrong."

"Fair, huh?" Kallian chuckled dryly. "That's the problem. I'd much rather have it be a grossly-unfair fight that they have no chance of winning."

Leliana felt her lips curl upwards. "Then we'll just have to make sure that things don't go wrong."

"Exactly," Kallian snapped her fingers. "And the way we do that is by going back to the Arl's estate and formulating a plan that doesn't hinge on crazy."

Cocking her hip, Leliana gave the elf a flat look. "This is coming from the woman who snuck out in the middle of the night in order to fight an ancient witch. I hardly think that you of all people are in the position to lecture me about being impulsive."

"I knew you'd go there." Kallian sighed ruefully. "And I didn't _fight_ her. I tricked her with a carefully-laid trap. I told you about what I did to age that cork, right?"

"Many times."

"So, you see? It's not quite the same thing."

"I'd say that it is still in the same territory." Leliana relaxed her posture and moved to stand next to Kallian. "Would you at least like to hear what I have planned?"

Kallian hesitated for a long time before eventually lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "Sure, why not?"

"The front door is out of the question. It's just too visible to make for a clean entry." Leliana pointed at the front of the building to emphasize her words. "We'll circle around to the back of the house and go in from that direction. While the cellar door is an option, I'd feel more comfortable if we could just go in through the backdoor. The only problem is that the lock on that door looks rather serious."

"There's a cellar?"

"Yes, it can be accessed from the outside."

Kallian made a pensive noise. "How'd you learn about that?"

"I inspected the perimeter while you were busy flirting with that pirate."

"I was not flirting!"

"No, of course you weren't." Leliana held up a placating hand. "As I was saying, the backdoor has a rather impressive lock on it. I would imagine that Marjolaine was the one to have it installed. I didn't want to risk getting too close, but I from what I could see, it will be tricky to get in."

Kallian scoffed. "I can pick it."

"Are you sure? I don't know if I could—"

"Leliana, trust me on this." Kallian cut her off with a wave of her hand. "I've never met a lock I couldn't pick."

Leliana quietly noted that Kallian was beginning to talk as though she had already agreed to help. Keeping her tone confident, she moved on to the next stage of the plan. "Once we are inside, I think it would be best to eliminate Marcel from the entire equation. He will have a separate room. If we can remove him quietly, it will make confronting Marjolaine much easier."

"It's not a very detailed plan."

"Plans do not have to be complicated in order to work properly." Leliana glanced down at the elf at her side. "We have the element of surprise on our side and I promise that the priority will be on escaping if things turn out poorly. Involving the others isn't necessary and it only risks losing this window of opportunity. Staying at an Arl's estate places us in the public eye. Every moment we are there increases the chance of Marjolaine catching wind of our presence."

Kallian dragged a hand down her face. "We don't have our weapons."

"I have a knife, and I'm certain you do as well." Leliana dismissed the concern with a shrug. "I would say that makes us plenty formidable."

"This is one of those times when I wish I was smarter than I am." Kallian sighed heavily and then tilted her head up to look at Leliana. "Alright, I'm with you. If we end up dead, just remember that I said that this was a bad idea."

Leliana released a breath that she didn't realize that she had been holding. "Thank you, Kallian."

"Uh-huh."

"Let's give it a few minutes just make sure that everything has settled before we move." Leliana lowered herself into a crouch and began to mentally prepare herself for what was to come. "It's a lucky thing that it is so dark out tonight. It will make us harder to spot."

"Yeah, there is that."

The two of them knelt quietly for a few minutes and watched the house together. Leliana's body felt tingly and light from the adrenaline that was already beginning to build in her system. She couldn't say whether she was frightened or simply eager to get this over with, but the nervous energy was a liability when she needed to think clearly. Taking a few calming breaths, she lifted a hand and touched Kallian's shoulder.

"Are you ready?"

"Nope, but let's do it anyway."

…

xxXxx

It was almost midnight by the time they reached the backdoor.

Even with the thin sliver of the moon directly overhead, it was difficult for Leliana to see more than a few feet in front of her face. Circumnavigating the house had taken longer than she had anticipated, but Leliana didn't mind the precaution. If they were able to take Marjolaine unawares, the short delay would be worth it.

As soon as they reached the door, Kallian sank to her knees to study the heavy lock that had been fixed above the handle. After a few beats, the elf harrumphed softly before reaching down to slide something off of her belt. A moment later, Leliana heard the tell-tale click of metal picks as Kallian slid them into the lock's chamber.

Crouching beside her, Leliana moved so that her lips were almost touching Kallian's ear and spoke up in a whisper that was barely audible. "Is it going to be a problem?"

The elf shook her head in denial and then turned her focus to the task before her. As there was nothing she could do to help without getting in Kallian's way, Leliana settled back onto the balls of her feet and kept her eyes on the house's windows. All of them were dark on the eastern side of the house, but that just made it easier for someone to see out of them at night. Even so, she doubted that Marjolaine spent her nights peeking out from a dark room.

For a time, the only sound Leliana could hear was the faint scratching noise of Kallian's picks. The wind had died down considerably, and this part of Denerim was very quiet in comparison to the rougher districts. Wincing as Kallian let out a faint curse, Leliana peered over the elf's shoulder in a pointless attempt to see how things were going.

Kallian was going about her task with the measured patience of a profession. Using a slender blade to manipulate the tumbler, the elf slid an even thinner pick around the lock's inner workings as she attempted to set the various pins. In Leliana's experience, lock-picking had always seemed like more of an art than a science. There were some basic guidelines that were true for all locks, but beyond that it was a matter of trial and error.

Shifting her weight from one side to the other, Leliana leaned in close to whisper in Kallian's ear once more. "We can try the cellar if this is too difficult."

"Shhh!"

Kallian hissed at her before cocking her head to one side. Realizing that the elf was trying to listen for the tell-tale sound of a set pin, Leliana closed her mouth and forced herself to relax. Kallian would have the lock open in due time, and rushing her would only be counterproductive.

As if to prove that patience was indeed a virtue, Kallian soon released a soft exclamation of triumph. Turning the tumbler with a satisfying click, she withdrew her tools from the lock's cylinder and glanced back at Leliana.

"You gotta have faith, Sister."

"I'm terribly impressed." Leliana gave her a dry nod. "Before you open it, check for any surprises. Marjolaine is fond of traps."

Kallian eased out of her crouch and slid her fingers along the seams of the door. Apparently satisfied that there was nothing suspicious about the frame, the elf then grasped the handle of the door and inched it open. The well-oiled hinges didn't release the slightest of sounds, and Kallian spent a few long moments checking for anything out of the ordinary.

She eventually shrugged and turned back to Leliana. "Nothing."

"Go slowly just in case."

"Right."

The elf pushed the door open just wide enough for them to slip through. Following Kallian into the house, Leliana let her hand drop to the dagger at her side. As dark as it had been outside, it was even harder to see once they were in the house. Peering into the inky blackness for a second, Leliana turned back to the door and took care to close it quietly.

"It's the kitchen." Kallian's hushed whisper drifted from somewhere out in the darkness. "I can smell the spices."

Leliana took two tentative steps forward and nearly bumped into the other woman. Patting Kallian's left shoulder to let the elf know where she was, Leliana moved past Kallian and tried to get a feel of the room they were in. Even though she could only barely make out the shape of a large stove in one corner, it was enough to confirm Kallian's assessment. There was a door-less threshold set into the opposite wall, and through it Leliana could see a warm glow of light from some distant part of the house.

"Alright, let's be ready as we move in." Leliana slid her knife out of her sheath. "I'll take the lead."

"Gotcha."

Leliana waited until Kallian drew her own dagger before beginning to move towards the doorway that led into the rest of the house. Thankfully, the floor was made of stone tiles instead of wooden floorboards. Even so, she took the time to distribute her weight incrementally with each step. Navigating around the cold fire-pit that had been sunk into the center of the room, Leliana moved to the side of the threshold and peaked around the corner of the threshold.

The kitchen opened into the house's landing. At the end of a hallway to their left, Leliana could see the double-doors of the main entrance. The staircase leading up to the second floor was to her right, and the light that she had seen earlier was emanating from up above.

Kallian tapped her shoulder. "I can hear someone moving around up there."

Leliana pulled her head back around the corner and faced the elf. "You sure?"

"Mostly."

"Then we'll check upstairs first."

"Right."

Gripping her knife so that the blade was jutting out from the bottom of her fist, Leliana carefully edged her way into the landing. Even though there were plenty of shadows to conceal their movements, Leliana still felt uncomfortably exposed as the two of them crossed over to the base of the staircase. The steps were made of wood, so she took care to tread on the outside edge of each step to keep them from creaking.

Leliana paused midway up the staircase when an indistinct noise reached her ears. Craning her head around, she gave Kallian a questioning look. It was just bright enough for her to make out the uncertain look on the elf face. Shaking her head, Kallian pointed up to the landing above them.

Not quite sure what to make of that, Leliana kept her eyes open and resumed her slow climb. Soon enough, she crested the final step and found herself on the second floor of the house.

The mysterious sound was coming from a single door off to their right. It was cracked open to release a narrow shaft of vibrant orange light onto the landing. Straining her ears in an attempt to discern what the sound was, Leliana thought for a moment that it was someone speaking.

Kallian touched her shoulder and leaned in to whisper a single word. "Singing."

Cold realization washed over Leliana. All at once, she knew exactly who was in that room. Raising her knife in preparation, she crossed over to the doorway with three quick strides. Kallian released a startled hiss as the sudden motion, but Leliana was past listening. Without waiting for the elf to catch up, Leliana placed a hand on the door and listened to the sound coming from within.

The woman's voice was like fine velvet and so hushed that Leliana couldn't make out the words of the song. That didn't matter; she recognized the melody instantly. It was so familiar that she could have sang along if she had been so inclined. Any final doubt was dispelled the moment she heard that voice.

Without a second thought, she pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

Marjolaine was sitting in front of a vanity mirror with her back to the door. Humming softly as she drew an ivory comb through her long brown hair, the bard gave no sign that she noticed Leliana's presence. Unless Marcel was hiding underneath the bed, it appeared as though she was along in the room.

Leliana slid in through the door and scanned the room with a quick glance. A canopied bed was set upon a raised dais against the far wall of the large room. In addition to the vanity and a massive armoire, the room was richly furnished with exotic Antivan rugs and embroidered drapes. Inside the small, marble fireplace, a few burning logs were provided a welcome wave of heat.

Marjolaine's song died off as Leliana stepped further into the room. Pausing for a beat with her ivory brush still held aloft, the other woman slowly pulled the comb free of her hair and set it aside. In the mirror's reflection, Leliana locked eyes with the woman she had once loved.

She had not changed much since the last time Leliana had seen her. The years had added a few lines to her face, but they did nothing to diminish her regal beauty. Her hair was longer than Leliana remembered. It fell down to the middle of her back in a glossy curtain that glowed in the firelight. She was dressed in a light gown that had been slit along the sides to reveal glimpses of her white thighs. Marjolaine was still beautiful. That didn't surprise Leliana in the slightest.

After a moment of silently contemplating one another, Marjolaine smiled broadly.

"Hello, pretty thing."

The old endearment hit Leliana harder then she would have thought possible. After everything that had passed between them, Leliana didn't know how Marjolaine could possibly say it with the same warmth and intonation she had always used. Forcing her face into a rigid mask to keep the other woman from seeing how it had affected her, Leliana nodded in response.

"Marjolaine, you're looking well."

Marjolaine rose from of the chair with a graceful movement and turned to face Leliana. "That is so sweet of you to say. It is dreadfully hard to keep up one's appearance in this barbaric country."

There was a small shuffling sound behind Leliana as Kallian stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Glancing between Marjolaine and Leliana with a displeased expression, she crossed over to stand next to Leliana with her knife hanging loosely in her hand.

"Who is this then?" Marjolaine smiled at Kallian as though the elf was a welcome guest in her house. "My invitation was only extended to you, Leliana."

Leliana ignored her question. "Sending men to kill me is hardly an invitation."

"And yet, here you are." Marjolaine released a cheerful laugh and moved to sit on the edge of the bed with one leg dangling over the side. "May I just say that it is so good to see you again? I was afraid that pretending at being a Sister would have made you frumpy. Yet, you look even more radiant than I remember."

"Perhaps the Chantry agreed with me."

"Oh, I doubt that." Marjolaine tilted her head to one side. "You enjoyed the Game too much to settle for prayers and piety. It must have been stifling."

Leliana stared back at her. "Some might say it was a welcome change of pace."

"Not so welcome, I would think. After all, you did join up with the first group of adventurers to cross your path." Marjolaine gave Kallian a significant look. "I do not believe that there are many Chantry Sisters who go around slaying monsters and collecting elven toys."

Kallian grunted. "Toys?"

"Believe whatever you want, Marjolaine." Leliana gave the other bard a flat look. "I did not come here to justify myself to you."

Marjolaine pushed herself off the bed and took a step towards them. "So why did you come, my pretty thing? I was beginning to think that you would just keep hiding until I found you."

"I came to put an end to this."

"An end?" The other woman studied her with a pensive look. "Does that mean that you intend to kill me? It seems a shame to do that. The two of us worked wonderfully together."

Leliana realized that she was gripping her knife so tightly that it hurt. Willing her fingers to relax, she nodded slowly in response to Marjolaine's state. "Yes, we did work well together. Right up until the point where you framed me for treason and left me to die in a Chevalier's dungeon."

Marjolaine seemed to pout. "You are not still upset with me over that, are you? I told you that it was nothing personal."

"Nothing personal?" Leliana felt an old anger rise up in her chest. "I loved you, Marjolaine. I trusted you with my life and you betrayed me for no reason at all. That is about as personal as a thing can get."

"Don't be so dramatic." Marjolaine dismissed her words with a casual wave. "There was a very good reason for what I did. You had left me with no other choice, Leliana. I had to protect myself even if it meant hurting you. It killed me to do it, but you would have done the same in my position."

Leliana shook her head in fierce denial. "No, Marjolaine! That's where you are wrong. I would never have done that."

"Never say never, pretty thing. I saw the ambition inside of you. How long do you think it would have been before you decided that you would rather give the orders than follow them? I had to act first or else our positions would have been reversed."

The words made Leliana feel cold. Though she had long accepted that this was Marjolaine's true face, it was still hard to hear these things aloud. There had been time when Leliana would have done anything Marjolaine wanted. She had allowed herself to believe that the affection wasn't one-sided. Clearly, she had never been more mistaken about anything in her life.

Releasing a breath, she met Marjolaine's gaze. "I actually pity you for what you are."

"Not enough to stay your hand though, hmm?" Marjolaine gave Leliana a knowing smirk before turning her attention to Kallian. "And what of you, little one? What is your stake in all of this?"

Leliana took a step forward. "Don't talk to her."

"Our Leliana is such a sweet creature, isn't she?" The bard stared at Kallian as though Leliana hadn't even spoken. "It's so easy to forget that she's not quite as innocent as her smile would suggest. Tell me something: did she do anything special to wrap a Grey Warden around her finger? You don't seem like the type to be fooled by a few pretty words."

Kallian gave her a bored look. "You sure like to talk."

"It's what I'm best at."

"That's nice for you."

Marjolaine laughed. "Oh, she's just precious, Leliana! Wherever did you find her?"

Noting with some discomfort that Marjolaine knew that Kallian was a Warden, Leliana loosely folded her arms in front of her. "That is none of your concern, Marjolaine. Tonight is about you and me."

"I beg to differ. You chose to involve her, and that entitles me to some curiosity." Marjolaine beamed at Kallian. "Allow me to ask you something: do you love her? Most of her other marks were head-over-heels by the time our Leliana was done with them. The remarkable thing was watching how they would react once they realized what she was. Some of them cried, some of them yelled, and a few of them simply refused to accept that it had all been a ruse. How do you think that you'll respond?"

Kallian raised her brows. "Wow, I'm really starting to look forward to killing you."

"Ooh, so fierce!" Marjolaine clasped her hands over her heart in a mocking gesture. "It's like having a little doggy snarl at you."

Leliana interjected before Kallian could respond. "I think that is enough games. It is time that we talk about the reason we are all here."

"By all means."

Taking her eyes of Marjolaine for a brief moment, Leliana risked a quick glance over at Kallian. The elf seemed entirely at ease, and in Leliana's experience that meant that Kallian was upset. Wishing that she could offer Kallian some comfort without Marjolaine noticing, Leliana took a breath and focused on the bard in front of her.

"Why did you have to come after me? You could have just stayed in Orlais."

Marjolaine clucked her tongue. "And leave you alone? With all of those nasty secrets that you know? No my dear, I'm afraid that was not an option."

"I don't want revenge, Marjolaine. I just wanted to leave that part of my life behind me."

"Ah, but maybe that part of your life does not want to be left behind. Maybe it wants the exact opposite." Marjolaine's smile took on a predatory edge. "I need you back, my pretty thing. I want our lives to return to the way they were before all of that unpleasantness."

Leliana furrowed her brow. "You're insane."

"Oh come now, I know that you must miss me. I certainly miss you." Marjolaine waved a careless hand at Kallian. "You can keep your little elf if that makes you happy. I'm not as jealous as I once was. All I want is for you to come back home. It has not been the same since you left."

Leliana could feel Kallian's eyes on her even though she kept her own gaze firmly locked on Marjolaine. She didn't believe that Marjolaine was lying. The other bard might be treacherous and self-centered, but she did like to own things. It was a genuine offer, and knowing that made it all the more repulsive.

"That will never happen, Marjolaine."

"What did we say about the word 'never'?" Marjolaine smiled thinly. "You know that I always get what I want. If you won't come willing, then I'll have to make you see reason."

Leliana glared at her. "There's nothing you could ever say or do that would convince me to go with you. I'm a different person now."

"No one ever changes. You're still the same little minx that you always were. If you can't see that, then I'm afraid I may have to remind you." Marjolaine slowly stepped closer to them and gestured at Kallian. "Maybe you'll change your mind after I've taken a knife to this one. If not, then I suppose we could always get creative."

Kallian's shoulders went tense at the threat. "Seriously, you just don't shut up, do you?"

"If you were trying to make me jealous with this one, then you really could have done better." Marjolaine's eyes flitted over to Leliana. "Rudeness aside, taking an elven lover has been out of fashion for years now. I'm surprised to see that your standards have dropped so sharply."

Kallian huffed a short laugh. "Do all Orlesian women turn into complete bitches when they get old?"

Marjolaine eyes narrowed into slits. For a crazy moment, Leliana felt the perverse urge to laugh. Although Marjolaine was the most manipulative person she had ever met, there was no one in the world who was better at getting under someone's skin than Kallian.

"We'll return to that remark later." Marjolaine gave Kallian a smile that was heavy with promise. "For now, I think we should—"

The bard was cut off by a commotion outside of the door. A loud scuffle suddenly sounded from somewhere close by and then a woman's voice called out in surprise. A bare instant later, the door exploded inwards as a slender figure was hurled into the room to land in a graceless heap near Kallian's feet.

Groaning as she rolled onto her back, Isabela propped herself up on one elbow and peered up at Kallian and Leliana. Her face immediately brightened. "Hey now, fancy meeting you two here!"

Kallian frowned at her. "What the hell?"

Before Isabela could answer, another newcomer stepped into the room. Tall and thickly muscled, Marcel dwarfed the rest of them as he prowled through the doorway. In the warm firelight, his sable-colored skin shone like polished jet. Leliana had to repress the urge to shiver as she met his cold, reptilian eyes. Marcel had always made her feel profoundly uneasy. Coming to a halt a few feet from the door, the massive eunuch flexed his powerful hands in preparation.

Marjolaine made a pleased exclamation. "Marcel, how good of you to finally join us. I see that you've brought another uninvited guest along as well. Is that Captain Isabela I spy?"

"In the flesh." Isabela got to her feet and shot a wary look in Marcel's direction before turning to Marjolaine. "Now, I would imagine that this looks like I've betrayed you, and that's because that is exactly what happened."

"Yes," Marjolaine drew in a heavy sigh. "I must say that I am a touch disappointed with you. I had hoped that the two of us would have a profitable business arrangement. I was clearly mistaken when I decided to trust a woman in your line of work."

"Heh, that was pretty stupid of you." Isabela gave an agreeable shrug. "Most people are savvy enough to not expect much loyalty from a pirate. We're pretty big on the whole 'backstabbing' thing."

Marjolaine gave her a dangerous smile. "As am I."

Leliana wasn't entirely sure what to make of this development. She had not expected to see Isabela again, but it looked as though the pirate was on their side in this exchange. Now that Marcel had entered the picture, Isabela's help might prove crucial.

"What are you doing here?" Kallian muttered the words to Isabela out of the corner of her mouth. "I thought you were buggering off to your ship or something."

Isabela cracked her neck loudly and reached down to slide a long, thin dagger out of her right boot. "I realized that I didn't have any plans tonight. This seemed like a lot more fun than sitting around a tavern and drinking cheap rum. So, I thought it might be nice to sneak in after you and see how things were going. I ran into the big guy just as I was getting up the staircase. He's quiet for someone his size."

Leliana jerked reflexively when Marcel stared moving. Circling around the perimeter of the room, the eunuch made his way over to the fireplace and plucked an iron poker out from the embers. Holding the smoldering tip out in front of him, Marcel turned back to regard them with the same empty stare. Marjolaine nodded her approval.

"I think the time for conversation has past." She turned to her manservant with a smile. "Let's try to keep sweet Leliana alive. The pirate and the elf do not matter so much."

Lowering herself into a combat stance, Leliana moved so that she was level with both Kallian and Isabela. "The two of you should try to deal with Marcel. I'll handle Marjolaine."

Kallian's lips curled up. "Thanks, I was just about to call the giant with the burning poker."

"C'mon elf girl, you're worrying too much." Isabela appeared entirely unconcerned. In fact, Leliana was struck with the sudden suspicion that the pirate was enjoying herself. "It won't be that hard. You'll stab him a few times, I'll stab him a few times, and then everything will fall into place from there. It'll be a good way to get our blood moving."

A tense silence filled the bedroom as the five of them squared off. Across from Leliana, Marjolaine was smirking at her in challenge. Slowly moving to the left, Leliana raised her knife and took several calming breaths as she felt her heart rate pick up. Now that it came down to it, she was not sure if she was ready for what would come next.

She decided to move first. Stepping to her left, she advanced in a way that isolated Marjolaine from Marcel. Kallian and Isabela followed her lead with gratifying speed. Working together, they hemmed Marcel in so that he was forced to deal with the two of them. Hoping that they wouldn't underestimate his strength, Leliana stepped forward to engage Marjolaine.

She wasn't surprised to see that Marjolaine had a knife in her hand by the time that she had closed the distance between them. With a cheerful smile, Marjolaine dropped into a stance that closely mirrored Leliana's own. Circling around each other like hungry wolves, they both watched for any possible openings.

"You're looking a little stiff, pretty thing." Marjolaine mused aloud. "Out of practice, perhaps?"

Leliana felt a sharp smile tug at her lips as her nerves gave way to anticipation. "The Chantry didn't take up all of my time. In between all the prayers and piety, there was room for a little practice. I wanted to be ready."

Marjolaine raised her brows in amusement. "Why? Just in case one of those farmers became too forward with his drunken advances?"

"No," Leliana watched as Marjolaine shifted her grip on her weapon. "I wanted to be ready for you."

"I'm flattered."

"You really shouldn't be."

Leliana flinched when Marjolaine made an abrupt feint with her knife. Ignoring the mocking smile the other bard sent her way, she focused on keeping her eyes on Marjolaine's blade. The feint had been to test the distance between them, and Marjolaine would be getting serious soon.

In Leliana's opinion, there were two different schools of thought when it came to fighting with a knife. One approach was to focus on containing the opponent's knife long enough to do something nasty in return. It made for fights that were composed of short bursts of brutal grappling. Both Zevran and Kallian favored this form, and Leliana sometimes found it hard to watch their nightly sparring sessions. Typically, their bouts ended with both elves rolling on the floor while slamming elbows into each other's faces. Neither one of them was adverse to underhanded tactics.

On the other hand, Marjolaine had taught Leliana a more refined style. It was based on quick and fluid motions that blended offense with defense. In the hands of a master, the knife became a barely-visible blur that presented a constant danger. One could say that Kallian and Zevran's style was more efficient, but Marjolaine's was far more elegant. When she killed a man, it was with a certain appreciation for aesthetics.

That appreciation didn't make her any less dangerous. Marjolaine was a ruthless killer who was very good at what she did.

Their dance began when Marjolaine abruptly pivoted and thrust forward with a sinuous motion. Rather than attempt to dodge, Leliana batted the other woman's arm away with her free hand and brought her own knife up to slash at Marjolaine's ribs. Twisting out of the way, Marjolaine kicked out with her right leg and landed a blow against Leliana's hip.

It staggered her for the barest of moments, but that brief stumble nearly cost Leliana her life.

She saw Marjolaine's arm fly forward just in time to raise her guard. Rather than open her throat, the deflected knife simply sliced a narrow groove along the side of her throat. A burning pain immediately flared up from the cut. In an effort to buy herself some space, Leliana cut blindly at Marjolaine's face as she lunged backwards.

The desperate ploy accomplished what she had hoped. Marjolaine backed off long enough for Leliana to gather her bearings. Keeping a wary eye on the woman in front of her, Leliana lifted her free hand to her neck to check on the damage. It stung, but she had gotten off lightly. If she had been even a tiny bit slower, a superficial cut would have been the least of her worries.

Marjolaine chuckled throatily. "Come now, let's be done with this before I have to harm that lovely face. This night can still end pleasurably. Give me a chance and I'll show you how much I missed you."

Leliana frowned at her. "You missed owning me. That's all."

"It hurts me when you say such things."

A furious curse made Leliana glance away from Marjolaine for a moment. While she had been dancing around with the other bard, Kallian and Isabela had clearly been busy. Somehow, the elf had latched onto Marcel's back and was doing her absolute best to lock in a choke-hold. Her knife lay forgotten several yards from the commotion, but Isabela was still holding hers. For his part, Marcel was using one hand to prevent Kallian from throttling him while simultaneously fending Isabela off with his iron poker.

Leliana supposed that the scene would be amusing if it weren't for the fact that they were trying to kill one another.

Marjolaine used Leliana's momentary distraction to launch her next attack. Leliana had been half-expecting the move, and so she was quick to respond. Weaving away from Marjolaine's swipe, she chose to weaken her opponent rather than go for a lethal counterattack. Lashing out with her boot, she landed a vicious kick to Marjolaine's inside leg. It would hardly win her fight, but getting kicked in the shin was agonizing. Pain would slow Marjolaine down.

Following through as Marjolaine released a surprised breath, Leliana caught hold of the other bard's knife arm and yanked towards herself. The motion unbalanced Marjolaine, and Leliana brought her knife up in a side-arm thrust.

Marjolaine recovered smoothly. Blocking the wide blow with her forearm, Marjolaine then broke free of Leliana's grip with a neat twist of her wrist. Leliana wanted to press the attack, but she had to be more cautious now that Marjolaine's knife was free. Stepping back to avoid a cursory slash, Leliana flipped her knife around so that the blade was extending from the top of her fist. Held in this way, it would give her some extra reach.

"I made you what you are, Leliana." Marjolaine brushed the errant strands of her hair out of her eyes. "You can pretend to be a Sister or an adventurer, but you will always be a bard."

"Shut up, Marjolaine."

For a brief instant, Marjolaine dropped her guard as she prepared to say something else. Seizing the opportunity, Leliana pushed off her back foot and thrust at Marjolaine's chest. It was meant to force the other woman back, but she realized too late that Marjolaine had lured her in. Easily stepping away from Leliana's attack, Marjolaine swung her open hand against the side of Leliana's head.

It was a chastising blow; the type that Marjolaine had given her during their training sessions. Had she wanted, Marjolaine could have used her knife.

Her left ear ringing from the slap, Leliana stumbled backwards. Marjolaine gave her a patronizing smile and lowered her knife. "Really Leliana, this is pathetic. I'd hate to think that I wasted all those years I spent making you into a weapon. This "new you" is a little weak for my tastes."

Leliana tried not to show how much the casual hit had shaken her. She had thought that she was holding her own, but now she had the unsettling notion that Marjolaine was just toying with her. Drawing a steadying breath, she breathed out slowly and did her best to set her mind straight.

Marjolaine might just have been trying to taunt her, but Leliana couldn't help but think that she might be right. Leliana the Chantry Sister didn't stand much chance against someone like Marjolaine. Her former teacher was one of the most dangerous people in Thedas. So long as Leliana was standing with a foot in both worlds, Marjolaine would tear her apart.

The old Leliana could have done this. That vicious little girl had never worried about morality or the consequences of her actions. She had killed because she was good at it. There had been a certain satisfaction to doing the one thing she was perfectly suited to do. She had been a weapon. She had been unstoppable.

And Leliana had done everything in her power to leave that person behind.

From somewhere in the room, the sound of breaking glass tore through the underlying chorus of three people fighting. Leliana didn't turn around this time. Kallian and Isabela would have to handle themselves. Leliana couldn't afford the distraction anymore.

Silently asking for forgiveness, she gave in and embraced that old, fierce joy that had never quite gone away.

She moved forward with renewed purpose. Marjolaine lifted her knife in preparation, but the other bard was unaware of the fact that things had changed. Her blood singing with anticipation, Leliana closed in and began to kill.

Her first attack was a feint. Going in low, she pulled back quickly as Marjolaine moved to defend. Lifting her free arm, Leliana blocked Marjolaine's riposte and thrust with her knife. There was very little space between them, and their exchange became frenetic. Reacting solely from muscle memory, Leliana felt her lips curl into a smile as the two of them began their dance.

It suddenly seemed easy. Marjolaine's slashes and thrusts were familiar and predictable. Leliana had gone through these same motions a thousand times before: Block. Attack. Intercept the counter-maneuver. Reposition your feet. Attack. Push the guard. Force the opponent back. Watch the knife. Attack.

Take the advantage.

Warmth welled-up inside her chest as she delighted in the adrenaline rush. It seemed as though time had slowed to crawl as she exchanged blows with Marjolaine. Then, just as things were becoming interesting, she saw her opening. Swatting Marjolaine's knife down after the bard made a hasty thrust, Leliana reversed her grip on her knife once more and swept it across the other woman's chest.

The strike hit home, and Marjolaine released a startled cry of pain. Smirking in satisfaction, Leliana used the opening she had created to force Marjolaine back. She had the advantage now and needed to establish a dominate position. It was the key to winning, and winning was all that mattered. That was the only rule of the Game.

She drove Marjolaine back until the other bard was forced against her bedroom wall. Marjolaine tried to bring her knife up to slash Leliana's face, but Leliana blocked the strike with her own blade. Metal skittered against metal as they tried to force each other's weapons back. It left Leliana's other hand free, so she formed it into a fist and slammed it against Marjolaine's lower ribs in the hope of breaking something.

Marjolaine grunted in pain and pushed against Leliana's knife hard enough to break their struggle. Pulling the weapon back, Marjolaine tried to bring it down. It was a panicked reaction, and Leliana was ready for it. Catching hold of Marjolaine's wrist, she pinned the bard's knife hand to the wall. Quickly bringing her own knife to bear, Leliana hammered it downwards. Marjolaine's free hand wrapped around her wrist just before the blow could land. It left them on relatively even ground.

Only Leliana had leverage.

Keeping Marjolaine's dagger firmly pressed against the wall, Leliana focused on forcing her knife closer to the bard's unprotected chest. Neither of them spoke as they strained against each other in this oddly intimate embrace. From somewhere behind her, Leliana could hear Kallian shouting at Isabela. She didn't let it distract her.

Marjolaine's strength gave out in slow increments. Leliana lifted her eyes from the blade in between them and met the other woman's gaze. The other bard's jaw was clenched in effort, but her eyes were wide and full of something that looked a great deal like fear. All the while, the blade continued its inexorable descent.

The woman that Leliana had once loved made a soft sound of denial when the point touched her chest. She gasped when the blade pierced her skin and choked as it began to dig in. Her knife dropped from her hand soon after to clatter against the stone floor. Even then, she kept trying to force Leliana back.

Leliana never looked away from Marjolaine's big, brown eyes as she killed her. She just leaned her weight against the knife until something gave inside Marjolaine's chest and the blade sunk in deep. Marjolaine coughed violently and her hand dropped from Leliana's wrist as her strength finally failed her. It was only then that Leliana released her.

Stepping back as Marjolaine slowly slid down to the floor, Leliana took a deep breath that made her feel like a new person. Her body was still humming with the excitement of battle, but she couldn't seem to move as she stared down at the other woman.

Marjolaine lifted a hand to touch the dagger that was buried just to the right of her heart. Trembling with whatever it was that a dying woman feels, she lifted her eyes and stared up at Leliana. "…L-Like…this?"

Her eyes went empty a few seconds later. Leliana stared down at the corpse for what felt a hundred years. The adrenaline had faded all at once to leave her tired and shaken. It was over, but she was surprised to find that it didn't feel much like a victory.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself looking into Kallian's concerned eyes.

"Hey, you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." Leliana shook herself and tried to focus on the elf. "You?"

"Good enough." Kallian jerked a thumb over her shoulder and smirked. "I gotta admit though, that Marcel guy sure gave us a hard time. It turns out that he gets pretty upset when you stab him a bunch of times."

Glancing in the direction Kallian had indicated, Leliana quickly discovered what had become of Marcel. The giant manservant had been thrown face-first into the room's window. Though most of his body was still inside, his head and neck had gone straight through the glass pane. Isabela was standing a few feet away from the motionless eunuch with her arms crossed over her chest. Cheerfully nodding at Leliana, the pirate nudged Marcel with the toe of her boot.

"You know, I don't even think it was the stabbing that killed him." Isabela clucked her tongue and began to swagger over towards them. "While I'm sure that wasn't good for him, I think he actually tore his throat open when we did the whole 'window thing'. No mistake, he was a tough nut to crack."

Kallian shrugged. "Either way, we murdered the shit out of him."

"I see." Leliana slowly dragged her hand down her face. It felt like she was disconnected from everything around her. "Well done."

Leliana turned back to Marjolaine in order to reassure herself that this was actually over. The other bard's eyes were still staring sightlessly upwards, and Leliana was quick to avert her gaze. Steeling herself, she knelt down and closed Marjolaine's eyelids with a brush of her fingers. With that done, she stood up and released a shuddering breath.

"We should leave." Her voice sounded shaky to her own ears. "The commotion might have frightened the neighbors. It would be best if we were gone before any guardsman show up to investigate."

Kallian nodded in agreement. "That's smart thinking. There's going to be a lot of uncomfortable questions and we don't have any good answers."

"What are we waiting for then?" Isabela took a silver necklace off of Marjolaine's vanity and expected it with a critical eye. Winking at Leliana, the pirate slipped the necklace down the front of her corset. "I've always hated cleaning up after a party. I like to leave before I outstay my welcome."

Leliana followed Kallian as the elf led the way out of Marjolaine's bedroom. Pausing at the doorway, Leliana waited until Isabela had exited before turning back to give the room one final look. There were so many emotions churning inside her that she felt physically ill. Placing a hand on the doorframe to support herself, she fought the urge to sit down and catch her breath.

"Leliana," Kallian appeared at her elbow. "We really should get moving."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Closing her eyes for a long moment, she took a deep breath and found the strength to turn around. Motioning for Kallian to lead, Leliana stepped out of the room and left her past behind.

…

xxXxx

…

"So this is where you two are staying?" Isabela whistled in appreciation. "Sailors and shipwrecks, that is a sodding big house."

Kallian barked out a short laugh. "If you think that's bad, you should see some of the other estates around Denerim. When you put it up against those, Arl Eamon's house seems pretty low-key."

"Is that right?"

"No kidding, this is what nobles consider 'modest'."

"I bet these places are just full of nifty treasures." Isabela rubbed her chin and studied the outside of the estate with a judicious eye. "At the same time, I'd be willing to bet that they are also full of guards. The damn thing is built like a fortress."

Kallian nodded. "Most of these nobles have small armies guarding their stuff."

"See, that's why I prefer crime on the high seas. Even a good-sized merchant vessel can only have a handful of trained guards on board. It makes for easy pickings. You should give it a shot."

"I'd need a ship to be a pirate."

"Not if you join my crew." Isabela glanced at Kallian and then at Leliana. "I saw the way you two handled yourselves. I could put your skills to good use. Besides that, Ferelden is about to become all different kinds of nasty. Why not catch a free ride out before you're up to your tits in monsters?"

Kallian ran a hand through her hair and gave Isabela a lazy shrug. "We've got a few commitments that we can't really walk out on."

"As a woman who has walked out on hundreds of commitments, I can tell you that it's easier than you'd think." Isabela smiled at them both and then waved a hand. "Still, I'm not one to push. At least, not in this particular context."

Leliana smiled faintly. "Thank you for the help, Captain. I think we needed it more than I realized."

"Don't mention it. All that sneaking around and fighting was a blast." Isabela smirked at her. "I'll say this much about you Orlesian girls: you sure know how to make a night into something interesting. Are you sure that you wouldn't like to try your hand at a little pirating?"

"I'm sure."

"More the pity," Isabela flashed Leliana a bright smile before turning to Kallian. "I'll be casting off in the next few days, but there's still plenty of time for you to take a tour of the ship. I've got a wonderful bottle of spiced rum in my cabin that's just begging to be opened."

Leliana stepped forward and slid an arm around Kallian's waist. "She'll pass."

"Oh, so the two of you are…?" Isabela's eyes lit up with suggestion. "Well now, that's just sweetening the pot. I'm sure that the three of us could get into all sorts of trouble. I mean, my cabin's a bit cozy for a crowd, but I wouldn't mind—"

"As lovely as the offer is, I fear that we may have to decline for now." Leliana interjected as she glanced down at Kallian. "Right?"

Kallian quickly nodded. "Right."

"That's a damn shame. I guess I'll just have to find a couple of lucky sods to keep me company." Isabela gave Leliana an amused look. "You ladies take care of yourselves, alright?"

"You do the same."

Turning on her heel, Isabela began to stroll away. Tossing them a wave over her shoulder, the pirate started whistling some kind of sea-shanty as she vanished into the night. Watching her go for a moment, Leliana looked down when Kallian pulled away from her embrace.

"Can we get inside? It's so damn cold out here."

Leliana had barely even noticed the frigid temperature until Kallian mentioned it. Pulling her fur cloak tighter, she followed Kallian as the elf moved to enter the Arl's estate. In spite of the late hour, two armed guards were standing at attention in front of the main doors. It seemed as though Arl Eamon was unwilling to take any chances when it came to security.

Thankfully, the guards recognized her and Kallian. Opening the door for them, the soldier on the right gave them a congenial nod as they passed by. Leliana returned it out of reflex, and then she was greeted by the blissful warmth of the main hall.

In accordance with the late hour, the hall was completely empty. The only light came from a few slow-burning candles that had been fitted into several sconces that were mounted along the walls. Considering that the hall was usually full of servants or the Arl's knights, it was a bit odd to see it like this.

The two of them veered off to where the guestrooms were located. The Arl had been generous enough to offer the party an entire wing of his estate. Everyone had their own rooms, and the luxury was more than appreciated.

Kallian drew up short as soon as they entered the hallway that connected all of their rooms. Peering over her shoulder, Leliana immediately saw what had caused the elf to pause. Situated directly in the middle of the hallway, Oghren was laying face-down and motionless on the floor.

A horrible possibility arose in her mind. "Is he dead?"

Kallian stepped forward and nudged the dwarf with her boot. Oghren snorted in discomfort but gave no sign of waking up. Turning back to Leliana, Kallian lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Just drunk."

"Should we help him to his room?" Leliana noted with some distance that the dwarf was drooling. "It's just over there."

"I dunno, that would involve touching him." Kallian stepped over Oghren's body and resumed walking. "Besides, this will be a good lesson for him. If you get shitfaced, then you sleep in the hallway."

"I suppose."

Shooting a guilty look down at the unconscious dwarf, Leliana trailed after the elf. Kallian led her down the hallway before finally stopping in front of Leliana's door. Coughing to clear her throat, Kallian ducked her head at Leliana and began backing away in the direction of her own room.

"I'm glad that went well. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Before Kallian could get more than a few steps, Leliana reached out and caught hold of her arm. The thought of being alone right now terrified her. Their argument early tonight seemed distant and unimportant. She could put it behind her if Kallian could.

"Wait," She shifted her grip so that she was holding Kallian's hand. "Stay with me tonight…please."

For a horrible moment, it looked like Kallian was going to turn her down. Then, Kallian gave her a shy smile and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Releasing a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding, Leliana let go of Kallian's hand and opened her door. She allowed the elf to enter first, and then shut the door behind them. Drawing a taper from the fireplace that the servants had evidently kept lit, Leliana used the smoldering tip to light a candle by the bedside. Retuning the taper to the fire, she turned and faced Kallian.

The elf was fidgeting; a sure sign that she was uncomfortable. At a loss for how to set Kallian at ease, Leliana simply sat down on the edge of her bed and began to loosen the ties of her cloak. Shrugging the heavy garment off, she looked up when Kallian padded over.

"You're hurt." Kallian lifted a hand to gently explore the cut along Leliana's neck. "Take your shirt off, I'll get something to clean this."

If it had been any other night, Leliana might have made a quip about how Kallian was just looking for an excuse to get her out of her clothes. Tonight however, she just removed her outer layer and peeled off her wool shirt to leave her in her brazier. Just as she finished undressing, Kallian returned with a ceramic basin that Leliana kept by her door. Filled with water and flower petals, the basin was meant for washing one's hands and face. Taking a hand towel, the elf dipped the cloth in the water and began to lightly dab it against at Leliana's neck.

"I didn't get the chance to ask back there." Kallian voice was too casual. "How are you holding up?"

Leliana sighed. "Not very well."

"Oh," Kallian hesitated for a moment before resuming her motions. "Do you…uh, do you want to talk about it?"

The query made Leliana smile in spite of how she was feeling. There was nothing in the world that she wanted more than to talk about what had just happened. She had been waiting for Kallian to ask that very question since they had left Marjolaine's house. Wincing as Kallian brushed the wet cloth over her cut, Leliana tried to explain her confused thoughts.

"Marjolaine was not a good woman. She caused me more pain than anyone else I have ever met." Leliana closed her eyes as she spoke. "Our relationship was built entirely around lies, and I doubt very much that she ever cared for anyone aside from herself. In spite of this, I stilled loved her once."

Kallian made a neutral sound. "Alright."

"I thought it would be easier. I thought that I would be so angry that it wouldn't even bother me." She opened her eyes slowly. "But, when it was all over, I just felt horrible. It's absurd, but I feel as though I betrayed her in some way."

"Do you regret killing her?"

"No, it had to happen. She would never have stopped hunting me otherwise."

Kallian was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was curiously blank. "You could have gone with her."

"I did not want to ever follow Marjolaine again." Leliana turned her head so that she could face Kallian. "And if I had gone with her, then she would have killed you. I couldn't let that happen."

"Good, because that would have sucked."

Leliana smiled at the attempt at humor. Tilting her head to give Kallian better access to her neck, she worked up the nerve to tell the elf what was truly bothering her. "I realized something tonight."

"Yeah?"

"I realized that I haven't changed at all. I'm still the same person I always was." Leliana clenched her right hand and stared at it like it was something unfamiliar. "I had hoped that all this time away from Marjolaine might have made me a better woman. Perhaps I was a fool to think that such a thing was possible."

"What are you talking about?" Kallian pulled the cloth away from Leliana's neck and gave her a puzzled look. "You're great."

Leliana shook her head. "I don't think you understand. When I fought Marjolaine, I felt just like I used to whenever I made a kill. It was exciting and I…well, I enjoyed it."

"C'mon, that just happens sometimes. Lots of people feel weird when they are in a fight."

"No, it's not the same thing. It was like surfacing after holding your breath underwater." Leliana waved a hand in a futile attempt to punctuate her point. "It made me feel alive. What kind of person enjoys fighting someone else to the death?"

Kallian didn't say anything for a moment. The elf took the cloth and the basin in hand and brought them back to the small stand by Leliana's door. When she came back, she was holding another towel. Using it to dry Leliana's neck and shoulder, she spoke up in a measured tone.

"You know, when I was a little kid, I used to want to be human." Kallian chuckled in a self-disparaging way. "I guess I thought that if I was a shem, then everything would turn out alright. My family could've moved out of the Alienage, and merchants would've stop chasing me away from their stalls. I think I even tried to get people to call me Karen for a while."

Leliana looked at her. "And?"

"Well, as you might notice, my ears are still pointy." Kallian's tone became wry. "After a few months of that shit, I realized that there was no point trying to be something I'm not."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Look, I'm just saying that there are some things you can't change about yourself." Kallian tossed the towel to the side and moved to set next to Leliana on the bed. "You said that you didn't want to be a bard any longer. That doesn't mean that you're suddenly going to be a different person."

Leliana raised a brow. "So, you're saying that I'm just naturally like this? I don't really see how that's any better."

"You can't help that you enjoy a bit of danger and excitement. Trying to force yourself to live in a Chantry was like me trying to be human." Kallian reached out and placed a hand on Leliana's knee. "It's no use fighting what you are. What you can change is how you choose to live your life. There's no harm in enjoying a fight if you're fighting for the right reasons."

"Let me see if I understand this." Leliana covered Kallian's hand with her own. "Are you telling me that you believe that I could never live a life of peace?"

"I'm just saying that maybe you should try to find some middle ground. I think that what you need to do is find a way to work at something positive that is also not completely boring." Kallian gave a careless shrug. "You've been doing a lot of good since you joined up with us."

Leliana considered what she had heard for a moment. Kallian was not the most eloquent of speakers, but the point had come across. She was surprised to find that the elf's words had made her feel better. It was still difficult for her to accept that she had killed Marjolaine, but the comfort was appreciated.

"It's an interesting idea." She mused aloud. "I'm just worried that lines would blur. I might start out doing things for the right reasons, but what if that changes down the line?"

Kallian smirked. "Then I'll be there to slap some sense into you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Sure."

The two of them shared a smile that lasted until Kallian broke out into a yawn. Well aware of how tired the elf must be, Leliana stood up from the bed and gestured at it meaningfully. "Maybe we should continue this conversation in the morning."

"Sorry," Kallian gave her a sheepish grin. "It all sort of caught up to me at once."

"I understand, I'm tired as well. Let's go to sleep."

Kallian nodded in gratitude and began to strip off her bulky furs. Shedding her own pants and underclothes, Leliana slipped under the covers and watched as Kallian undressed. The sight made her feel better. Kallian wasn't exactly trying to be sexy about it, but watching a slender elf wiggle out of tight pants was enough to rouse anyone's spirits.

Once Kallian had scrambled underneath the covers, Leliana leaned over and blew out the candle. The sheets were cold, but Leliana found that she didn't mind once a soft and warm body pressed against her. Turn to face Kallian in the darkness, she lifted a hand and cast about until she found the side of Kallian's face.

"Thank you so much for what did for me tonight. I could not have done this without you."

Kallian leaned into her touch. "Don't mention it, I owed you one."

"Hardly."

There was a small pause, and then Kallian spoke up in a quiet voice. "I know I said it before, but I'm so sorry for everything. What happened at Redcliffe and how I acted afterwards…"

"Hush," Leliana leaned forward and pressed her lips against Kallian's. Kissing her for a few heartbeats, Leliana drew back and moved her arm down to pull the elf closer. "I don't want an apology. I just want things to be right between us."

Kallian made an agreeable noise. "Okay then: things are alright."

"Yes, they are."

They stopped talking after that. For several minutes, Leliana simply listened to Kallian breathing as the elf began to drift off to sleep. Leliana knew that she wouldn't be joining Kallian anytime soon. Her thoughts were too twisted and frayed to allow her to relax.

"Hey, Leliana?"

Kallian's voice was somewhat muddled by sleep. Stroking a hand along the elf's side, Leliana opened her eyes. "Yes?"

"Would it help if I told you that of all the Chantry Sisters I've met, you were the only one who looked good in those god-awful robes?"

A smile tore its way across Leliana's lips. Chuckling softly under her breath, she closed her eyes and tightened her grip around Kallian's middle. The elf rubbed her cheek against Leliana's collarbone before moving to rest her head against the pillow.

Leliana took a breath and whispered softly in the ensuing silence. "_Je t'aime_."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing." Leliana smiled to herself. "Go to sleep."

...

xxXxx

* * *

This chapter was a doozy to write. It took forever. Thanks so much to my beta Gorg for offer some wonderful perspective on this one. Also thanks to everyone for reading!

Next Time On Thorns: A trip back home!


	39. Comin' Home

Chapter 39: Comin' Home

-Arl Eamon's Estate-The Alienage-

* * *

xxXxx

…

"Can I get you anything else, milady?"

Kallian blinked and turned to face the servant who had spoken. "Oh, no thanks. This is great."

"Yes, milady." The young man bowed at his waist. "If that changes, I will be nearby."

With a formal smile, the servant turned on his heel and moved off to deal with more important business. Glancing down at the plate he had given her, Kallian felt a twinge of anticipation as she took in the delightful spread of breakfast foods. After skipping dinner last night due to Leliana's mission, and she had got up this morning feeling famished. Spreading blackberry preserves on a flaky roll of some kind, Kallian took a big bite and chewed with relish.

Even after getting to sleep so late last night, Kallian had found herself awake at the crack of dawn. Her stomach had compelled her to get out of Leliana's bed, and she had ended up finding a seat in the main hall of the Arl's estate. The long table was mostly empty. Without exception, her few fellow diners were all knights of Redcliffe who were grabbing a hasty breakfast before duty called them away. Kallian sat apart from all of them. She didn't have anything in common with shemlen knights and she had never minded her own company.

As she helped herself to some of the delicious porridge that the cook had whipped up, Kallian briefly reflected on how bizarre it was for her to be here. At no point in her life did she ever expect to find herself eating a massive breakfast in an Arl's estate. In spite of the fact that she had fought dragons and quelled a demonic invasion, this was the thing that struck her as truly unbelievable. Somehow, in the course of several months, she had gone from "cat burglar" to "honored guest."

Life was weird sometimes.

She didn't let the absurdity of her situation spoil her mood. Truth be told, she was feeling rather optimistic today. Sure, she still going crazy and running out of time to find a cure, but everything else was looking up. For one thing, last night had put a rest to all the problems that had arisen between her and Leliana. That alone was enough to make Kallian a happy elf.

Beyond that, the metal collar that Wynne had made for her was proving to have a very nice side-effect. Aside from keeping her murderous rampages to a minimum, the uncomfortable hunk of copper had also chased away her nightmares. In point of fact, the collar had gotten rid of all of her dreams. Without the Fade's presence in her mind, Kallian had enjoyed peaceful nights that were free any interruptions. The extra sleep made her feel like a completely different person.

Without the nightmares or relationship trouble, she really only had to worry about the impending Darkspawn attack. The latest reports from down south suggested that the garrisons had fallen. It meant that the Archdemon's host now had a clear route to Denerim. In a few weeks, the Darkspawn would be at their doorstep.

Kallian felt as though she should be more worried about that particular eventuality. She supposed that it was easier to ignore the threat that the Darkspawn presented because they had always been a distant presence in her mind. For the time being, there were more immediate concerns.

"Do you mind if I join you, my dear?"

Kallian looked up from her breakfast to find Arl Eamon standing on the other side of the long table that ran the length of the main hall. The Arl was wearing a friendly smile that made Kallian instinctively raise her guard. Swallowing a mouthful of ham, Kallian held out a hand to indicate the seat across from her.

"It's your house."

"Thank you, I had almost forgotten." The Arl's smile took on a wry twist as he sat down. "With all the people that are here, I must say that it hardly feels like a home."

Kallian took a big bite of scrambled eggs and watched the Arl warily. However much he might smile and pretend to be grandfatherly, Arl Eamon was still a shem noble. He was better than most she had met, but that wasn't saying very much. Rather than attempt to make small talk, she adopted a vacant expression and stared back at the Arl.

He looked rather lively for this early in the morning. His beard had been neatly trimmed recently, and he looked as fresh as a man half his age. Kallian noticed that he had regained some of the weight he had lost during his illness. It made him seem much more robust. She had a feeling that the Arl had been a brawny man before that blood mage had poisoned him.

She turned her attention to his face when he cleared his throat and smiled at her. "Alistair tells me that your condition has improved lately."

"Yeah," Kallian instinctively raised a hand to finger the edge of her collar. "I'm as harmless as a kitten. You don't have to worry about me making things harder for him."

The Arl looked uncomfortable. "I never meant to suggest that you would."

"Of course not."

Kallian took a drink from the cup that the servant had set before her. She was pleased to discover that it was some type of sweet juice. Curiosity almost made her ask the Arl what it was, but she didn't like the idea of letting her ignorance show. Instead, she simply set the cup down and waited for the Arl to speak again.

"You are upset with me. That's understandable." He nodded to himself and then gave her a pointed look. "The only reason I voiced concerns regarding your presence was that I felt as though your condition presented a danger to our mission. A mission that I am sure you will agree is of paramount importance."

Kallian shrugged. "I don't blame you for that. It's a pretty reasonable concern."

"I am glad you see it that way. I did not mean to cause any offense, Ser Kallian."

"I'd rather you just call me Kallian."

"Please forgive an old man for his formality."

"No harm done." Kallian ate another bite of roll and glanced up at the Arl. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

The Arl folded his hands and rested them on top of the table. His expression was still pleasant, but the friendly smile had vanished. "I have a request that I would like to ask of you."

Kallian returned his smile with a polite one of her own. "A request?"

"Yes, it is something that I believe you are well-equipped to handle." The Arl drew a piece of paper that had been folded lengthways out of his breast pocket and slid it across the table. "Indulge me for a moment and take a look at this."

Wiping her hands on her napkin, Kallian reached over and plucked the paper off of the table. Unfolding it, she mentally groaned when she found herself staring down at an official-looking document that was covered in long, unfamiliar words. Forcing herself not to mouth the words as she went, Kallian did her best to struggle through the large heading.

Thankfully, Arl Eamon saved her from having to guess out loud. "It is a writ of passage that I had drafted for you. As you may know, there are certain areas in Denerim that have been declared off-limits to the general population. This letter will give you the authority to move freely in these areas."

A pang of understanding shot through Kallian. "The Alienage."

"Indeed," The Arl nodded gravely. "There is something very unusual occurring in the elven district. This is not the first time the city has quarantined the Alienage, but never for this long or with this degree of vigilance. Loghain has deployed three times the usual amount of soldiers necessary to enforce the quarantine. What is even is more concerning to me is that he has denied both the Chantry and the Circle's offers of aid. For whatever reason, he has refused to allow any form of medical assistance to be offered to those inside."

Kallian curled her free hand into a fist. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"I do not know. Loghain is currently claiming that all resources must be diverted to preparing for the Darkspawn assault. However, that does not explain why he will not allow the Circle's mages to enter the Alienage. He has said that the elves are being treated by an 'outside interest', but has refused to elaborate."

Something occurred to Kallian. "If he's being so secretive, then why would the guards let me in?"

"Loghain might deny the Chantry, but even he cannot forbid an Arl from making an inquest. So long as you present yourself with this document, the soldiers cannot legally prevent you from entering the Alienage." Arl Eamon looked thoughtful for a moment. "If Loghain's men attempt to deny you access, simply return here and I will file a complaint."

Kallian snorted. "File a complaint? I'm sure that will scare the shit out of Loghain."

"I do not think you understand, Warden." The Arl's expression shifted into a crafty smile. "The only reason that Loghain has been able to hide whatever it is that is going on in the Alienage is that none of the other Arls have taken notice. If he openly challenges my right to look after the well-being of Ferelden citizens, then he will draw a great deal of attention. Considering how hard he has worked to keep this quarantine established, I expect that he will do nothing to jeopardize his already tenuous authority."

Kallian absorbed the Arl's words for a few beats. Though she schooled her expression to give no outward sign, she was practically shaking with excitement. This was the chance she had been waiting for. Arl Eamon was giving her the opportunity to finally see if her family was alright.

Before she got ahead of herself, Kallian asked the one question that was still bothering her. "Why me? Why not send someone who works for you?"

"I did. Several times in fact." The Arl flicked his hand dismissively. "Although they observed a few concerning occurrences, they were not able to glean much information from the elves. Though your people have many wonderful qualities, I fear they are not very trusting. My knights reported that most would refuse to even speak to them."

Kallian had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She wondered if the Arl was really that surprised to find that the elves didn't exactly trust armored soldiers. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"So, now it is my belief was that you might have better luck." The Arl smiled thinly. "Alistair mentioned that you are from Denerim's Alienage. I suspect that you might have an extra incentive to get to the bottom of this."

That much was certainly true. Nodding her agreement, Kallian began spreading more preserves on her roll. "You said that the knights saw some weird things. What exactly were those?"

"A medical clinic has been established in the Alienage's former meeting hall. My knights report that men with staves were stationed outside. The uncomfortable implication is that Loghain has somehow acquired mages outside of the Circle's jurisdiction."

"Apostates?"

"That is a possibility." The Arl inclined his head. "Regardless of where they are from, their presence is extremely unusual. My hope is that you will find out what exactly Loghain is doing."

Kallian pocketed the writ he had given her. "Alright, I can do that."

"I would take care to tread lightly if I were you." The Arl raised a hand in a cautionary fashion. "Loghain will not officially act against you, but it is clear from what occurred last night at Howe's estate that he has no qualms against taking unofficial action."

Kallian nodded to show that she understood. "That's a good point. If it's all the same to you, I'll run this by Alistair and see if he has any thoughts on the Alienage. He might want to deal with this in a certain way."

"Of course." The Arl pushed his chair back and stood from the table. "I am glad we could have this conversation. If you will excuse me, milady?"

"Sure."

The Arl turned and moved off towards a group of his knights who had evidently been waiting for him to finish speaking with her. Trembling with excitement, Kallian all but inhaled the rest of her breakfast in her haste to get started.

She ordinarily felt bad about leaving a messy plate for the servants to deal with, but this time Kallian barely gave it a thought as she stood up from the table and began hurrying off towards the guest quarters. She briefly considered stopping in to tell Leliana, but the bard had still been fast asleep when Kallian had gotten up. Deciding that it was better to let Leliana get her rest, Kallian veered off towards Alistair's room instead.

Once she had arrived at her fellow Warden's door, Kallian raised a fist and knocked loudly. Folding her arms impatiently, she released a growl of frustration when Alistair didn't answer. After knocking twice more, she placed her hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. To her surprise, the door was unlocked.

Pushing it open without a second thought, Kallian stepped into Alistair's rooms. His study was empty, but it looked as though an ogre had been rampaging inside of it. A stack of papers had fallen off the room's desk to scatter about across the floor. The inkwell on top of the desk had also been knocked over, and now a large puddle of ink was in the process of staining the wooden surface of the desk. Pursing her lips as she took in the sight, Kallian glanced over at Alistair's bedroom door to see that it was closed. It seemed as though someone had been drinking too heavily last night and was currently in the process of sleeping it off.

She'd normally leave him to it, but this was too important. He'd just have to get over his hangover long enough to discuss this with her.

Hurriedly crossing the room to reach Alistair's bedroom door, Kallian placed the hand on the knob and opened it. "Alistair? Look, I'm sorry to bother you but—"

She stopped in midsentence and went as still as a statue. Until that very moment, she had never understood what people meant when they said that they had been "struck dumb". Yet, as she stood there in Alistair's doorway, Kallian's mind could only form three coherent thoughts:

1. Naked Alistair.

2. Naked Morrigan.

3. Holy Shit.

Yelping aloud, Kallian slammed the door shut and put her back against it. Her eyes felt like they were bulging out of her head and she was too stunned to even blush. Before she could flee from the room, Alistair's voice drifted through the closed door.

"Why wouldn't you knock?"

"I don't know!" Kallian shouted back. "I'm sorry!"

A muffled curse emanated from the bedroom and then Kallian could hear the sound of two people scrambling for their clothes. Stepping away from the door, she moved over to stand by the desk with her shoulders hunched. If her task from the Arl had been about anything else, she would already be a mile away from here. Praying that Alistair and Morrigan would be able to laugh this off, Kallian sheepishly waited for them to finish.

Morrigan left the room first. Her robes were in even more of a disarray than usual. Spreading her arms out in a long and indulgent stretch, the witch turned towards Kallian and gave her a lazy smile that dripped with self-satisfaction. Morrigan brushed a few tangled locks of hair out of her eyes and spoke up in a languid tone.

"Good morning to you."

"Yeah, right back at you." Kallian rubbed the back of her head. "So…uh, what's new in your world?"

"I believe that you saw the answer to that firsthand."

Kallian coughed. "Right."

Morrigan smirked at her and then walked over to the door leading out into hallway. Stepping through it without another word, the witch disappeared from sight. Less than a second after she had left, a mercifully-clothed Alistair strode out from his bedroom. Stopping a few feet from Kallian, the human folded his arms and gave her an expectant look.

"Yes?"

For a while, she could only stare stupidly at him. Alistair looked very much like a man who had spent a night having passionate sex with a swamp witch. His hair was ruffled and it stuck up at funny angles, and the slight shadow of a beard along his jaw gave him a scruffy edge that somehow suited him. Most telling of all was the smattering of bruises around his neck and collarbone.

It seemed like Morrigan was a biter. That didn't surprise Kallian very much.

Eventually, she mustered the wherewithal to point at the door that Morrigan had just left by. Drawing out each word, she tried to accurately convey the all-consuming nature of her disbelief. "What. The. Shit?"

Alistair flushed. "Oh c'mon, it's not _that _big of a deal.

"The hell it isn't!" Kallian couldn't help but laugh as she got over her shock. "You're sleeping with Morrigan? Since when?"

"Since last night," Alistair stepped over a few fallen papers and took a seat on the edge of his desk. Tossing her a faintly embarrassed smile, he raised his shoulders in a small shrug. "I'm not entirely sure how it happened. Things escalated pretty quickly."

"I don't even know where to begin with this." Kallian moved to sit next to him. "Did one of you lose a bet or something?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "That's very funny. If you really want to know, she sorta sprung it on me. I thought she just wanted to talk about something or the other, but then she starts in about 'advances' and how I'm not 'entirely unpleasant'. One thing led to another and we ended up…um…well…"

Kallian scratched the side of her head. "Making the beast with two backs?"

"What?"

"I dunno."

"Whatever, the point is that it happened." Alistair hesitated before giving her a tentative smile. "And I think that I'm pretty happy about it."

Kallian resisted the urge to tease him. There would be plenty of time for that later. Instead, she just nodded and returned his smile. "Well, that's good to hear. I'm going to have to hear more details at some point or another, but I guess I could always pump Morrigan for information."

"Oh wonderful, that's exactly what I was hoping you would do." Alistair's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Now, I imagine that you had a reason for bursting into my room this early in the morning?"

Remembering herself, Kallian quickly nodded and pulled out the Arl's writ. Passing it over to Alistair she gave him a brief overview of her conversation with Arl Eamon. Nodding thoughtfully as she finished, Alistair studied the writ for a few moments before looking up at her.

"It's a good idea. We need to understand why Loghain is doing this to the elves and it will give you a chance to check on your family. It sounds to me like everyone wins with this one."

Kallian frowned a bit. "You seemed to think it was a bad idea for me to go into the Alienage last time we were here."

"I was against you _breaking_ into the Alienage." Alistair gave her an easy smile. "Now though, you have an Arl's protection. Not only is it legal for Eamon to send you into the Alienage, there are plenty of people who would say that it is his responsibility. So by all means, go find your family."

"Thanks."

"You should really be thanking the Arl." Alistair tapped a finger against his lips in a thoughtful manner. "By the way, you definitely shouldn't go alone. I doubt that Loghain will try anything after what happened yesterday, but being by yourself is just inviting something unpleasant. I'd offer to go along with you, but Eamon has told me to keep my head down for the next few days."

"No problem, I'll rope Leliana into coming along." Kallian smirked as a mischievous thought crossed her mind. "Maybe I'll even ask Morrigan if she's not too tired."

Alistair heaved a sigh. "So it begins."

"You had to expect it." Kallian smiled and then nudged him with her elbow. "Seriously though: nice work."

"What do you mean?"

Kallian shrugged. "I mean with Morrigan. You set your standards pretty high for your first time."

"Err…" Alistair cleared his throat. "Thank you?"

"No problem." Kallian struggled to keep a straight face. She knew it was wrong to tease him, but she couldn't resist the opportunity. "I'm actually kinda surprised to see that you're still in one piece. I always sorta pictured a night with Morrigan to be a bit…well, brutal. I'm imagining a whole lot of scratching and biting."

Alistair blew out a breath. "Wow, I just cannot have this conversation with you."

"Why not?" Kallian looked at him curiously. "I thought that's what guys do."

"Yes…and you're a girl." Alistair made a vague gesticulation with both of his hands. "That makes it weird."

"C'mon, just pretend I'm Zevran or something."

"Now it's weirder."

Kallian laughed in appreciation. "Seriously though, it shouldn't be weird. You like girls and so do I. That's common ground right there."

"You'd think so." Alistair seemed to consider it for a moment. "And yet…still weird."

Deciding to ease up on the teasing, Kallian pushed off the desk and offered Alistair an easy smile. "Alright, have it your way. I'm sorry about barging like that. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"Don't worry about it. Go help your family."

Nodding her thanks, Kallian took the writ back and made her way to the room's door. She truly did feel bad about interrupting Alistair and Morrigan on their first night together, but it didn't look like Alistair was too distraught about it. In fact, the human looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him. With a final, apologetic wave in Alistair's direction, Kallian exited the room and stepped out into the hallway.

Her first priority was to get her gear together. After how much trouble she had killing that creepy manservant last night, Kallian had privately vowed to never leave her sword behind again. It might make some trouble with the guards, but she was imagined that the Arl's writ would get her out of anything short of murder.

She arrived at her door to find it locked up tight. It probably wasn't necessary when she was staying in the Arl's estate, but Kallian couldn't bring herself to leave the door unsecured. She was perfectly willing to accept that she had trust issues. It was impossible to grow up in Denerim and not develop a certain degree of paranoia. Taking a brass key that one of the servants had given her when they had first moved in, Kallian fitted it into the simple lock and opened the door.

While her room back at Redcliffe had been larger, this new room was still much bigger than she needed. Kallian had almost no possessions, and the room looked as though no one was using it. All of her clothing and gear fit into the oak wardrobe in the corner with plenty of room to spare.

There was also a writing desk that she had yet to use, but she had spread her journal out on top of it just to give the desk some character. Aside from a candle that she had placed on her end-table, it was the only thing she left out. If the servants could read her untidy handwriting, then they were welcome to pour over the inane drivel that Wynne had made Kallian write.

Although the room was plenty comfortable, Kallian felt a touch uneasy whenever she spent time in it. Something about rooms designed for humans gave her the distinct impression that she was out of place. Elves were shorter and slighter than humans, and it made the room feel like shoes that were a few sizes too big.

The worst was the bed. Kallian was practically swimming in sheets every time she went to sleep. Then again, maybe she had just been missing the sensation of sharing it with someone.

As soon as she set foot inside, Kallian knew that something was amiss. Her first hint was the subtle whiff of floral perfume that reached her nose as she entered. It was a familiar scent, and Kallian hid a smile as she walked over to the dresser where she kept her sword. As she opened the wooden doors of the armoire, Kallian's sensitive ears picked up the faint sound of careful footsteps behind her. Rather than turn around, Kallian simply pretended as if she was oblivious to Leliana's presence.

Yesterday had been a bit rough for the bard. Kallian decided to let her have this one.

She made a show of being surprised when Leliana's arms looped around her waist. Releasing a startled exclamation that she hoped was convincing, Kallian twisted around in Leliana's embrace to stare up at the bard. Relaxing into Leliana's hold, Kallian felt her heart skip a beat as she met the bard's eyes.

Leliana looked especially beautiful today. She had gathered her shoulder-length hair into a loose bun that was accentuated by a few stray locks. It was obvious that Leliana had been awake long enough to apply a hint of dark make-up to her eyelashes in order to bring out the vibrant blue of her eyes. She was dressed in a pair of brown, calfskin pants and a crème-colored tunic with long sleeves. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Kallian offered the bard a mock glare.

Leliana chuckled at her expression. "Got you."

"That wasn't fair." Kallian sniffed haughtily. "I didn't know we were allowed to break into each other's rooms."

"I did not even know there were rules."

Kallian smirked at that. Lifting a hand to toy with the front of Leliana's shirt collar, she gave the bard a speculative look. "Ok, I guess we never said as much, but I always figured there were some unspoken guidelines."

"All is fair in love and sneaking."

Kallian rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh…tell me that you didn't hide in here for too long just to do that."

"Oh no, I didn't even plan it." Leliana casually shifted her arms so that her hands were resting just above Kallian's hips. It was a relatively innocent movement, but it made the muscles in Kallian's abdomen flutter pleasantly. "When I woke up to find that you had run off, I decided to go looking for you. This seemed like as good a place as any to start. It was just a happy coincidence that you showed up when you did."

"Right, and why was the door locked then?"

Leliana paused. "…Alright, I may have planned it just a little."

"Uh-huh."

"Let's not get hung up on details." Leliana smiled and lifted her shoulders in a dismissive shrug. "Now tell me, what was compelling enough to drag you out of bed this early in the morning?"

"I was hungry." Kallian stepped closer to the other woman. It felt good to be teasing and joking with Leliana again. "Then the Arl stopped by and had a chat with me."

Leliana quirked a brow. "What about?"

"Well, it's funny that you should ask." Kallian looked up at Leliana and gave her a huge grin. "I've got something to tell you. Actually, I've got a whole hell of a lot to tell you."

"Don't hold me in suspense."

Kallian smirked. "Let's start with what I just saw in Alistair's room…"

…

xxXxx

…

The guard at the gate studied the Arl's writ as if he could make it burst into flames through sheer force of will.

In spite of the cold weather, Kallian felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of her neck. The act of intentionally walking up to a group of guards went against every single fiber of her being. Even with the Arl's letter, she couldn't shake the baseless notion that she was doing something wrong. If it weren't for the fact that Leliana and Zevran had offered to come along, she probably wouldn't have been able to muster up the courage to even try this.

After several long moments of watching the guardsman peer down at the writ, Kallian smirked and put just the right amount of condescension in her voice. "Do you need me to read it to you?"

The guard shot her a very ugly glare. From what Kallian had seen, it seemed as though he was the one in charge around here. There were four other guards stationed outside of the barred entrance to Alienage, but the markings on their armor looked different than those of the man in front of her. Kallian had never bothered to learn how to distinguish the rank of a guardsman. Conventional wisdom had taught her that it was best to avoid every guard with the same degree of caution.

She forced herself to smile back at him even though he was making her uneasy. The guard was big even by human standards, and Kallian could tell that he was carrying more muscle than fat. However, what really set her on edge were his eyes. Although they were small in proportion to the rest of his craggy face, the guard's eyes had a malicious cast that she recognized all too quickly. Growing up in Denerim had taught her how to recognize a bully. If she gave him half a chance, this guard would walk all over her.

Tapping the paper with two of his fingers, he spoke up in a voice that was choked by a northern-Ferelden accent. "It says here 'at these papers are fer an official representatif. Do ye expect me tae believe 'at an Arl wud hire an elf to dae his dirty work?"

"Arl Eamon is a practical man. When he needs to deal with an elf problem, he sends an elf." Kallian shrugged carelessly. "If you think that you know better, I'd be happy to pass the message along when I next see him."

The guard huffed. "What did ye say yer name was?"

"I didn't."

His eyes narrowed at her flippant response. He took a step closer to Kallian in a manner that was undeniably menacing. She had to fight the instinctual urge to back up. He had at least a foot on her, and he had to weigh twice what she did. Craning her head up to meet his eyes, Kallian raised a brow and waited patiently.

It was evidently not the reaction he had expected. Glancing over his shoulder, the man shot a look back at the other guards who were posted at the gate. They hadn't moved from their position, but they had placed their hands on their weapons. Apparently emboldened by their presence, the man turned back to Kallian with an unpleasant sneer.

"Ah don't like the sound of this. How about I just tell ye tae sod aff?"

"If that's what you want to do, be my guest." Kallian smiled her most patronizing smile. "I'll just go back to the Arl and let him know that his authority was overruled by a guard. I'm sure he'll have a calm and reasonable reaction to that."

The guard frowned. "Ah answer tae the Teyrn. His word means more than an Arl's."

"That writ is a legal document. Loghain has to respect it just like everyone else." Kallian shrugged once more. "But, if you don't believe me, than I have no problem leaving for now. I'll just come back once the Arl has complained to your superiors and had you whipped for disobedience."

A shadow of uncertainty passed over the man's eyes. "Ah won't be whipped for doing mah job."

"Unless your job involves arguing with Arls, I wouldn't be too sure about that. Before you do anything hasty, you might want to ask yourself how long it would take your commander to offer you up as a scapegoat."

For a moment, the guard just glared down at her in frustration. After a lifetime of fearing and running from the Guard, Kallian found it intensely gratifying to be on the other side of things. The man finally grunted and stabbed his finger towards the sword that was belted at her waist.

"Tch, ye can pass, but yer weapons stay here."

Leliana spoke up in a calm tone. "If you'll look at the last paragraph of the writ, it grants us express permission to bear arms."

The guard turned a suspicious look in her direction. "Ye sound like an Orlesian."

"I am indeed." Leliana fixed him with a diplomatic smile that somehow managed to be withering. "That is not a problem, I trust?"

"The Teyrn doesn't like Orlesians. He also doesn't like uppity knife-ears." The guard gave them both a nasty smile. "If ye want tae go in, ye lae yer weapons with mah. 'At is th' rule."

Kallian carefully avoided reacting to the slur. Instead, she just gave him a bored look. "We both know that if I wanted to enter that Alienage with an entire armory strapped to my back, there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it. It's time for you just to shut your mouth and step aside."

The guard's hands curled into fists, but Kallian didn't flinch. She knew that he was just bluffing in an attempt to save face. Letting her mouth curl into a pleasant smile that had to be infuriating, Kallian stared the man down as he tried to intimidate her.

At long last, the guard finally relented. Stepping back away from her, he hocked and spat in the dust near her feet. "Dae what ye want. Ah hope ye catch the plague."

"Thanks," Kallian kept the overly-sweet smile on her face. "It's so good to see that the Guard is willing to serve the people of Denerim."

Ignoring the murderous look that the man shot her way, Kallian took the writ from his hands and folded it carefully. She then waited as two of the guards moved forward to begin sliding the heavy wooden bar free from the gate. The archway leading into the Alienage also had a portcullis that could be dropped, but the guards had left it raised for some reason. Standing back as the guards opened the large doors, Kallian finally looked over her shoulder to check on Zevran and Leliana.

Zevran seemed to be smiling vacantly at nothing in particular. In the time she had spent travelling with the Antivan assassin, Kallian had come to realize that this was Zevran's version of being alert. If something did go wrong, she had every confidence that he'd snap into action.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Leliana just gave her a slight nod of encouragement. Taking a small measure of confidence from that, Kallian drew herself up and walked through the unfriendly group of guards. Although she had passed through the gate to the Alienage more times than anyone could count, this time felt inexplicably different. It was almost as if she was traveling back in time rather than simply returning home.

The guards began shutting the doors even before the three of them had fully stepped through. Kallian privately wondered if it had been a mistake to antagonize them. She hadn't factored in the possibility that these men might not let them out when they were done here.

She forgot all about that concern as soon as she took in the state of the Alienage. Even though most of the elves could barely get by, there had always been a communal sense of propriety when it came to their shared home. Her neighbors had worked together to help keep the streets free of trash or other waste. In the warmer months when everyone had a bit more money at their disposal, many of the elves planted small gardens in their windowsills. Children would make festive streamers to hang among the tree branches, and Kallian had once helped to paint a mural in celebration of summer solstice. On the right day, her home could seem like a cheerful and welcoming place.

At the moment however, the Alienage was neither.

Winter had never been kind to the elves. People ended up spending their wages on firewood just to keep from freezing to death. It made for several lean months that always took their toll on the entire community. That was bad enough, but it was even worse in conjunction with illness and the quarantine.

The first thing that she noticed was that several of the houses alongside the main road were completely dark. Letting one's fire die down during the winter months was a dangerous mistake. Kallian seriously doubted that anyone was living inside.

Her apprehension grew as they moved further into the Alienage. Piles of trash had been dumped in front of houses or else in the narrow alleys that splintered off from the main road. Several of the houses they passed had doors that had been kicked in. Kallian felt a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach when she tried to imagine what would drive the elves to looting.

She slowed to a halt when she caught sight of the charred remains of what had once been the Alienage's communal storehouse. Fire had reduced the structure to a blackened skeleton that had stained the surrounding snow like a puddle of spilled ink. Breathing out slowly in disbelief, Kallian covered her mouth with one hand and tried to ignore that kernel of panic that clawing its way along the back of her mind.

"Is this…?" Leliana hesitated for a long moment and gave Kallian an uncertain look. "Is this normal for the Alienage?"

Kallian dragged her hand away from her face without taking her eyes off of the burned-down building. "No."

"This might have been an effort to combat the plague." Zevran's voice was free of its usual sardonic edge. "There's no room to bury the bodies in here, so a fire would be the only solution. It would be nice if there was someone around that we could ask."

Leliana placed her hand on Kallian's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Is your house nearby?"

"Yeah," Kallian shook herself in an attempt to dispel the encroaching sense of dread. "Just up the road."

"Come on then, let's go find your family. We can discuss our next move from there."

Nodding more to herself than in response to the bard, Kallian turned away from the burned storehouse and began moving back up the street. As they went, she realized that Zevran had been right about the lack of people in the Alienage. The main road was completely deserted. Kallian might have thought the Alienage was completely empty aside from the fact that the majority of the houses had smoke rising from their chimneys. The elves were still alive; they just didn't want to come out.

She relaxed a little when the thatched roof of her father's house came into view. It looked undamaged, and she smiled when she caught sight of a thin eddy of smoke rising from the chimney. The only thing that was out of place was that the wooden shutters had been boarded close.

Kallian glanced back at Zevran and Leliana. "This is it."

Zevran cocked his head as he studied the trail of smoke rising from the chimney. "It seems like someone is home."

"Yep." Kallian stopped in front of the small structure. "Let's just hope it's the right someone."

She moved forward and raised her hand to knock on the grey wood of her front door. The sound of her knuckles against the wood seemed abnormally loud in the relative quiet of the Alienage. Fighting the absurd desire to draw her dagger, Kallian shifted from foot-to-foot as she waited for a response.

After a few long beats, Kallian thought that she might have heard a faint noise coming from inside the house. No one came to the door however, and she wondered if she had just imagined it. Uncertainty and worry flared up in her chest with renewed passion. She chewed at her bottom lip as she tried to think of what to do next.

Leliana cleared her throat. "You may want to try calling out. Your father might not be inclined to open his door considering the state of things."

"Oh, right." Kallian mentally smacked herself for not doing that in the first place. She had not even considered announcing herself at her own house. Lifting her hand once more, she quickly knocked and then raised her voice so that it would carry into the house.

"Hey, dad?" Kallian coughed and then spoke up a bit louder. "Dad? It's me, Kallian."

A startled gasp sounded from somewhere inside the house. The muffled thumps of rushed footsteps sounded a moment later as someone hurried to the door. There was an audible click of the lock being drawn back, and then the door was flung open with enough force to rattle the hinges. Before Kallian could react, something red-headed and slender shot out of the house like a loosed arrow.

"Kallian!"

Her cousin slammed into her with enough force to nearly send them both toppling to the ground. Laughing as she righted herself, Kallian wrapped her arms around Shianni's shoulders and returned the fierce embrace. It felt as though a terrible weight had been lifted off of her chest. The larger issues of the Darkspawn and her incipient mental breakdown may have taken precedence, but the concern for her family had never left her mind. Closing her eyes tightly, Kallian hugged her cousin and allowed herself to forget about everything else for a few moments.

Shianni pulled back and held Kallian at arm's length. Taking the opportunity to study her cousin, Kallian noted with some concern that Shianni was looking thinner than she remembered. Everything else looked the same. Shianni's red hair was still as glossy and well-cared-for as always, and her grey-green eyes still held that note of humor that Kallian adored. She was wearing one of the dresses that she had made. It was a pale-blue thing that Kallian had privately envied when she had first seen it.

"I can't believe it's you!" Shianni sounded as though she had just met the Maker. "We thought you were dead!"

"Dead?"

"We heard that all of the Grey Wardens had died with the King. Since you were with them, we just assumed the worst." Shianni shook her head in amazement. "And yet, here you are. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised. You always did have a knack for getting out of bad situations."

Kallian smiled faintly. "And into worst ones."

"Ha, if that isn't the truth." Shianni glanced over Kallian's shoulder. "Who are your friends?"

Realizing that she had completely forgotten about Leliana and Zevran, Kallian hurriedly broke away from her cousin and motioned towards each in turn. "Oh, Shianni this is Leliana and Zevran. Guys, this is my cousin, Shianni."

Leliana gave Shianni a charming smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Shianni."

"Yes, our dear Kallian has told us a great deal about you." Zevran stepped forward and took Shianni's hand to plant a quick kiss on her palm. "I fear she understated your loveliness, however."

Shianni raised a brow and shot Kallian a smirk. "He's interesting."

"It's best not to encourage him." Kallian fixed Zevran with a wilting look. "He'll never stop if you don't nip this in the bud."

Zevran chuckled. "On the subject of nipping buds—"

"Zevran!"

Shianni laughed aloud. "I see what you mean."

"It's just the beginning." Kallian smiled and then jerked her head in the direction of the house. "Where's dad and Soris?"

Shianni's smile vanished. "Right…um, you should probably come inside. It's not exactly safe to be staying outdoors these days and there are a lot of things that you need to know."

All of Kallian's concerns flared up with renewed vigor. Clasping Shianni's arms, Kallian fought down the clawing sense of urgency that was threatening to overtake her. "Are they alright? I heard about the plague and—"

"Plague?" Shianni interrupted Kallian with a bitter shake of her head. "There is no plague."

"If there is no plague, then why is the Alienage like this?"

"I'll explain everything inside." Shianni motioned towards the door. "I wasn't kidding when I said that it isn't safe to be out for too long."

Glancing back at Leliana and Zevran, Kallian followed her cousin into the house. A tiny part of her hoped to find her father inside, but she imagined that he would have come to the door if that were the case. Biting her tongue to keep from peppering Shianni with questions, Kallian glanced around the room as if to reacquaint herself with the place in which she had grown up.

Much of the living area was taken up by a rickety table that her father had made when Kallian was young. It stood directly in front of the small clay stove that provided warmth for the entire house. There wasn't much else in the living area aside from a rug that had been woven from some type of reed. Her father had never had many indulgences, and the few items of sentimental value were prominently displayed on the mantle that hung over the stove. Chief among them was a small painting of her mother that had been in the house for as long as Kallian could remember.

Through the open passage into the back room, Kallian could see the two beds that she and her father had used. A pang of some nameless emotion tugged at her heart when she noticed that her bed was still neatly made-up. It seemed as though her father had taken care to keep her side of the room just the way she had left it.

She turned away from the bedroom when she heard the front door close. Leliana stood a few feet from her and was in the process of examining the house with an unreadable expression on her face. Kallian couldn't help but wonder what the simple hut must look like to Leliana's eyes. It may have been her home, but Kallian had no illusions regarding the state of things. Her father's house bore all the marks of poverty with its worn furniture and cramped ambience.

Shianni sank down into one of the three chairs that were set up around the room's table. Pulling out one of the remaining seats for Leliana, Kallian looked over at Zevran and gestured at the last chair in a silent question. Shaking his head, the assassin leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

Kallian took the seat next to Leliana and looked across the table at Shianni. "Want to start from the beginning?"

"I think that's for the best." Shianni glanced from Zevran to Leliana before turning her attention to Kallian. "I'll try my best to explain what's going on around here, but I have to tell you that I don't really understand it myself."

"I guarantee you that you know a lot more than the rest of us."

"Alright then," Shianni took a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "A little over a month back, a few of the guards came by and started asking Elder Valendrian all these odd questions. They said that they wanted to know if anyone had been sick lately. We had a few people who had come down with a cough or a head cold, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"Did the Elder tell them that?"

"Sure, why wouldn't he? It's not like we wanted any trouble from the guards. Not after what happened at the wedding." Shianni gave Kallian an apologetic look. "I'm not trying to blame you or anything, but the guards were being absolute terrors after that business with the Arl's son. We were all keeping a low profile in the hopes that it would blow over. So, the Elder thought that it might help if we were as cooperative as possible. The guards told him to make a list of everyone that had been ill in the last six months. Their story was that the new Arl wanted to establish a hospital that the elves could go to. The list was to help the medics get an idea of what types of sickness were the most common in the Alienage."

Kallian winced. "The Elder bought that?"

"Like I said, the guards were coming down on us pretty hard. We hoped that the hospital was a peace offering of some sort."

Leliana spoke up in a soft voice. "Forgive my interruption, but do you know what became of this list?"

"No. The guards took the only copy."

"And then the quarantine began?"

"More or less," Shianni shrugged her shoulders. "One day, we woke up to find that the gates had been closed. The guards told us that a plague was running rampant in Denerim, but not to worry because a clinic was going to be set up inside the Alienage. We were supposed to isolate anyone who came down with any symptoms."

Zevran made a derisive sound. "I believe I know the ending to this story. Let me see…they locked you in and no one ever came to help?"

"Oh no, they came alright." Shianni smiled wanly at the assassin. "We had a full-blown medical clinic set up the very next day. Hell, they had sodding _mages_ who were willing to help us. I doubt that most of the people in this place had ever even been to a regular doctor before. They took in all the elves that were feeling ill even if it was something minor. Just to be safe, they told us that it would be best if everyone on the Elder's list came in for an 'examination'."

Kallian traced her finger along the tabletop. "Sounds way too good to be true."

"That's what your dad said. He warned us against going."

"He couldn't have been the only one."

"There were others. The problem was that the Elder became really excited about it. He thought that all of the petitioning to the city council had finally paid off. All he could talk about was how great it was that the nobles were finally paying attention to their elven citizens."

Kallian pursed his lips. "So what was the problem?"

"Nobody ever comes back from the clinic. Even worse, the men out front won't let anyone come in just to visit." Shianni's eyes hardened as she spoke. "Every time we ask about someone who went inside, they just say some nonsense about how that would be unsafe. It's all bullshit, but some of us are still thinking about going there for help."

Leliana tilted her head to one side. "Surely the elves must have realized that something was wrong when no one else came down with this supposed plague."

"Not every elf is an idiot. A lot of people know that something is wrong." Shianni fixed Leliana with a look that was so overtly hostile that Kallian winced. "You try spending a few weeks in a quarantine and see how rational you become. Every time that somebody around here gets a headache they start worrying about this plague. It doesn't matter that no one has seen anyone come down with it. They are just afraid."

"I didn't mean to cause offense." Leliana glanced between Kallian and Shianni nervously. "It is just such a bizarre situation."

Kallian reached across the table and placed a hand on Shianni's shoulder. "Take it easy. She didn't mean it like that. I get that this hasn't been easy, but we're here to help."

"Right," Shianni breathed out and nodded at Leliana. "Sorry."

The bard gave her a hesitant smile. "Of course, I understand your anger."

Shianni continued after a small pause. "Everyone knew to stay away from the clinic after a few weeks. They finally wised up to the fact that something was wrong. So then people just started disappearing. Those soldiers started kicking in doors and taking elves by force. They claimed that they were just isolating patients who were at risk, but we knew better. People started boarding up their doors and not going outside. It doesn't stop those bastards from grabbing people."

Zevran turned his head to face her. "These men outside of the clinic…could you describe them?"

"Umm, a few of them have staves and robes, but most of them just sort of look like soldiers. You know, with armor and everything." Shianni toyed with a lock of her hair as she thought. "I think that they are being led by some bald shem."

Zevran nodded. "Is there anything else that stands out about them? For instance, do you recall whether their swords are curved or straight? If not that, did you ever happen to hear them address each other with military ranks?"

Shianni blinked a few times and then furrowed her brow. "I never really noticed any of that…but, there is one thing that was weird. I heard a couple of the mages talking together and I didn't recognize the language. I dunno, that's really the only thing that sticks out."

Kallian raised a brow. Growing up next to Denerim's market district had given both of them a good ear for foreign dialects. Traders of every shape and flavor came to Denerim to sell their goods, and Kallian had grown accustomed to the sound of unfamiliar tongues. She might not be able to speak those languages, but she was confident that she could at least identify them. If Shianni couldn't tell where these men were from, then it had to be somewhere exotic.

Leliana leaned forward. "Were there Templars around these mages?"

"None that I saw."

"So, it is a group of foreign mages acting without the Chantry's supervision." Leliana turned her head to face Zevran. "Do you know what my first thought is?"

The assassin nodded. "Sounds like the Imperium."

Kallian frowned at him. "As in the _Tevinter_ Imperium?"

"It would explain a great deal." Zevran pushed off the wall and walked over to stand in front of the table. "This entire operation sounds as though it is far too organized to be a collection of simple apostates, and neither the Chantry nor the Circle would ever endorse such a thing. What's more, it suggests at the reason for why they are here in the first place."

"And that reason would be?"

"To capture slaves."

Kallian felt the blood drain from her face as she finally caught on to what Zevran was suggesting. Clenching her jaw so tightly that it hurt, Kallian struggled to keep control of her emotions. Turning back to Shianni, she spat out a question.

"Where is my dad? For that matter, where is Soris?"

Shianni looked every bit as shaken as Kallian felt. "Soris tried to bribe one of the guards at the gate to let him out so that he could try to find some kind of help. It must have worked because the guards let him out through the gate. Still, that was a week ago and I haven't seen him since."

Kallian clenched a fist underneath the table. "And my father?"

Her cousin dropped her gaze to the surface of the table. "Three days ago, he went out after dark to help put out a fire in the storehouse. He never came back."

Kallian slowly eased back in her chair. She meant to ask another question, but she couldn't seem to force the words out of her mouth. Underneath the table, Leliana reached over and took Kallian's hand in her own. Squeezing the other woman's hand so tightly that it must have been painful, Kallian tried to swallow around the knot that had formed in her throat.

Zevran clucked his tongue. "Well, that's good news."

"Good news?" Kallian felt a surge of hot anger at his flippant tone. Leaping up from her seat, she rounded on Zevran with her pulse pounding in her ears. "How the fuck is that good news?"

The assassin held up a pacifying hand. "If it has only been three days, then the odds are that he'll still be in the Alienage."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Tevinter Imperium is the only recognized country in Thedas that doesn't outright revile the concept of slavery. That makes their entire slave trade a rather clandestine affair." Zevran's face was perfectly serious as he faced her. That alone gave Kallian pause. "Now, ask yourself how they could possibly get unwilling slaves out of Denerim."

Leliana answered him quickly. "By boat."

"Precisely." Zevran nodded in agreement. "However, a boat presents a number of difficulties. The most immediate one being that Ferelden honors the trade embargo against the Tevinter Imperium. Their ships have no business being in Denerim's port. Such a thing might be conceived as an act of aggression."

Kallian nodded to show that she was following. "What does this have to do with my father?"

"My point is that the Magisters cannot risk attracting attention by having their ships moving in and out of the port. If they want to smuggle captured elves out of Ferelden, it would be best to do so swiftly and in a single go. The fact that they are still gathering their victims tells me that they have not yet reached their quota."

Kallian sagged in relief as understanding coursed through her. "Which means that they are still keeping the elves somewhere in Denerim."

"What's more, they should be in the Alienage." Zevran smiled at her. "The Tevinters wouldn't want to risk having someone accidentally see a plague-ridden elf outside of the quarantine. That might cause a panic. Besides, it also reduces the chance of any guards stumbling upon the operation."

Shianni coughed to get their attention. "Why even bother with this whole clinic thing? Why don't they just take everyone that they see?"

"It was to keep everyone from panicking or raising a fuss." Kallian felt her anger returning as she approached the only reasonable conclusion. "Loghain has a big hand in all of this. He was the one who established the quarantine in the first place. The slavers might not care about causing trouble, but he can't afford that. There would be hell to pay if it ever got out that he was behind this. It might even be enough to have him imprisoned"

"Good, he should pay for what he has done." Shianni sounded as though she wanted to rip Loghain limb-from-limb. It was a sentiment that Kallian could appreciate. "Now then, what in Andraste's tits are we going to do about those bastards at the clinic?"

"An interesting question," Zevran crouched down beside Shianni's chair. "We are outnumbered and facing an organized force. Not only do they have mages on their side, but those mages will also have no qualms against employing blood magic. If we attempt to take them in a head-on fight, we will surely die."

Leliana made a sound of agreement. "We would need Alistair and Morrigan to stand a chance against magic."

"Which is why we aren't going to fight them," Kallian murmured softly as a plan began to form in her mind. "At least, not in the way you're thinking."

"I take it that you have an idea?"

"You could say that. We're going to need to gather a few things." Reviewing a few possibilities in her mind, Kallian finally nodded as she reached a conclusion. "I think there's an old shawl in the bedroom that we could use. I'd bet that we could find the rest of it at the apothecary. Zevran, did you happen to bring any nasty little surprises with you?"

The assassin drew back the folds of his cloak to reveal a hardened-leather case that was strapped to his belt. "I never leave home without them."

"Good, then this is all coming together."

Shianni cleared her throat. "Uh, I think I might have missed something."

"You aren't the only one." Leliana was watching Kallian with a tolerant expression. "I'm sure that we would all like to hear what your cousin intends to do."

Kallian cracked her knuckles as she considered the three people in front of her. What she was about to suggest was absolutely crazy, but she had a feeling that it would appeal to this particular audience. It was time to see what a bard, an Antivan Crow, and a very pissed-off thief could do when they pooled their efforts. Feeling a feral grin playing along her lips, Kallian swept a glance over the three of them.

"You know, I'm actually starting to feel a little under the weather. What do you say we go see this clinic for ourselves?"

…

xxXxx

* * *

Originally, I had planned on ending this chapter at a different point. Most of the Alienage section was going to be unseen, and the next chapter would have occurred after a small time-skip. However, when I was writing this chapter, I suddenly had a nice idea for what to do with that particular section. As a result, Thorns will have an additional chapter about the Alienage and it shall be narrated by Zevran.

My New Year's resolution was to get on a more rigorous writing schedule. At the moment, it looks like the next chapter will be out inside of a week. If you guys are enjoying the story, please consider leaving a review. It's a small thing that makes me very happy nonetheless. Special thanks to my beta Gorg and to everyone who was kind enough to provide feedback on the last chapter.

Until next time!


	40. High Doses

**A/N:** So, I missed my deadline by a few days. I attribute this to the fact that this chapter turned out to be twice as long as I had anticipated. Not only had I not planned on writing it, but it also turned out to be longest in the story thus far. I hope everyone enjoys!

Chapter 40: High Doses

-The Alienage-

* * *

xxXxx

…

Zevran supposed that there were worse places for a person to live.

That wasn't an endorsement of the Alienage so much as it was a simple acknowledgement of fact. In the all of the vast reaches of Thedas, there had to be at least one blasted stretch of landscape that was less hospitable than his present surroundings. He was quite certain that there had to be at least one hellishly-cold, dragon-filled, Maker-forsaken spot of nowhere that was worse than this. With that in mind, he grudgingly acknowledged that Denerim's Alienage would not be his absolute last choice for a new home.

He felt as though that was the kindest thing he could say about this place. His own childhood had hardly been ideal. The brutal training of the Crows did not make for a happy adolescent. Even so, he believed that his experience was preferable to growing up hungry and despised. Living under the constant threat of human oppression would be trying enough on its own right, but these wretches had to contend with the dysfunction and hardship that came with wide-spread poverty.

However, the thing that truly bothered him about the Alienage was that it corrupted. He had no love for the Crows, but they had made him strong and given him a purpose. This decrepit prison did no such thing. It just twisted and degraded everyone who resided here until they were completely beaten down.

Take the Warden for example. Kallian was a twitchy, overly-aggressive mess who probably didn't trust her own heart to keep beating. Zevran would bet every coin he had ever handled that she was a product of her environment.

At the same time, it had also produced her lovely cousin. He supposed that was a point in the Alienage's favor.

The thought of the comely elf made him smile as he strolled along the deserted street in the direction of Kallian's house. It had taken him the better part of an hour to find something to suit his needs, but he was now the proud owner of a spare wineskin. Although it had been tragically empty when he had found it, the skin was now filled with something considerably stronger than wine.

He hated to brag, but he had really outdone himself this time.

Zevran flinched when a loud clamor suddenly arose from off to his left. It was on his blind side and Zevran mentally cursed at being caught unaware. Whirling towards the noise, he dropped into a defensive crouch and drew his dagger from its sheath in the same motion.

A grey tomcat stared backed at him from atop of a pile of trash. Hissing irritably, the animal turned and scurried off to do whatever it is that cats do. Zevran uncoiled from his crouch and returned his knife to his sheath.

Rubbing at his eye-patch as he resumed walking, Zevran frowned in irritation. Although he was eternally grateful to Wynne for saving his life, he wished she had been able to salvage his eye as well. The loss of depth perception and peripheral vision were serious setbacks when it came to his line of work. He was beginning to adapt thanks to his sparring with Kallian, but he worried that he might never be as capable as he once was. The one consolation he had was that his scars were healing fairly well. Leliana had been generous enough to tell him that they gave him a "rugged" appeal.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind as Kallian's house came into view. In his experience, it was best to not dwell on one's misfortunes. Besides, there was going to be a great deal of excitement in the near future and he needed to remain focused.

Knocking twice on the door once he had reached the house, Zevran called out to announce himself. "It's me."

There was a short pause before Shianni opened the door for him. Favoring him with a small smile, the red-headed elf ushered Zevran inside with a wave of her hand. Zevran returned her greeting with a gallant nod and walked inside the house to find Leliana seated at the table. Smirking at her, Zevran crossed the room and slid into one of the open seats.

"Where is our favorite Warden?"

"I'm back here." Kallian's voice drifted out from the back room. "I'll be out in a bit."

"Ah." Zevran glanced in the direction of the bedroom before turning back to Leliana. "I trust that you found everything you needed?"

The bard nodded and drew his attention to a large, oblong bundle that was on the floor beneath the table. "This is what we were able to find. Most of it is just repurposed tools. Still, I believe they'll be deadly enough in motivated hands."

"What about the distraction?"

"That's going to be something of a problem. Shianni gathered some coin from a few trusted neighbors, but it still was not enough even after we added all of our money." Leliana pulled a fat coin purse free from her belt and slid it across the surface of the table. "The silver and the gold are on top and I found a few flat pebbles to give it some weight. Just know that it won't hold up if they decided to count it."

Zevran slipped the purse strings loose and peered at the coins inside. "We'll just have to keep their minds on other things. What of the letter?"

Shianni came up behind him and placed a leather folio on the table. "We got really lucky. The Elder had a few pieces of parchment in his house. It took us a few tries to find the right colors and everything, but Leliana did a really good job. At least, I think she did."

"It's not perfect. I could not very well forge the royal seal in a few hours." Leliana tapped the folio with one long finger. "When the time comes, I'm just going to hope they buy the explanation. Other than that, it looks convincing. I have no idea how the Elder could afford prepared vellum."

Shianni's face twisted in a grimace. "A merchant gave him a great deal on it last summer. He was saving it for formal appeals to the king. I guess he'll never get the chance."

Zevran reached over and patted her hand in a reassuring manner. "Come now, you really must not say such things. Once we are finished here, your Elder will be able to write all of the ineffectual letters he pleases."

"The Elder might not have been kidnapped." Leliana responded to him in a quiet voice. "His lock was broken and there was a great deal of blood inside the house. I doubt that slavers would be interested in a man of his years. I fear that we will not find him with the others."

Shianni glared down at the table. "Shemlen bastards."

Zevran raised an eyebrow at the venom in the young woman's voice. He could certainly understand her being upset given the circumstances, but her tone suggested at some deeper anger. Shianni sounded as though she hated humans. Based on how Leliana was shifting uncomfortably, Zevran had a feeling that he wasn't the only one to notice.

After a short and awkward pause, Leliana cleared her throat. "What about you? Did you manage to find what you were looking for?"

"You could say that. I wasn't entirely sure of what I was looking for until I saw it." Zevran carefully set the wineskin on top of the table. "There now, tell me what you ladies think about this."

Leliana flicked a glance down at the skin."My, it appears as though you have found some wine. I suppose that congratulations are in order?"

As was too often the case, Zevran's unrivaled brilliance was not met with the appreciation it deserved. Shaking his head mournfully as Shianni chuckled at Leliana's snark, Zevran placed his hands on either side of the skin as he prepared to explain.

"I'm afraid that you are leaping to conclusions, _bella_." Zevran stroked his hand along the worn leather of the skin before coming to rest around its tapered neck. "What you see before you is actually a marvel of alchemic chemistry. Even better, you would never know that it is a weapon just by looking at it."

"I thought you were going to make a grenade of some sort."

"Do you have idea of how hard it is to make a multiple-chamber grenade out of clay bowls and shipping pitch?"

"I do not, actually."

"Then allow me to assure you that it is exceedingly difficult. This is much more convenient and it should be plenty effective."

Leliana eyed the skin with a dubious expression. "Should be?"

"I did not exactly test it." Zevran held up a hand to forestall any comments. "That isn't to say that I'm acting on faith alone. I have made a similar device before and it worked perfectly. I was using a different substance as the key ingredient, but I see no reason why that should make a difference."

"It had better not. Otherwise we'll be facing a group of very unhappy blood mages."

Shianni bent over to examine the skin more closely. Doing so gave Zevran a tantalizing view down the front of her dress. He enjoyed the scenery for a few seconds until Leliana cleared her throat in a meaningful manner. Looking up to meet her disapproving frown, Zevran flashed her a shameless grin.

"Ah, you worry too much. All will go as planned."

"I believe you, but I don't get how this will help us." Shianni murmured as she straightened up. "Is it full of poison or something?"

Before Zevran could dazzle her with a detailed explanation of the chemical process behind his creation, Kallian abruptly appeared at the bedroom doorway. Throwing her arms out to the sides, the Warden smiled crookedly at them.

"So, how do I look?"

The last time Zevran had seen her had been over an hour ago. The transformation since then was truly impressive. Instead of her furs and leathers, she was now wearing a shirt made of thin wool and brown trousers that had been patched liberally. The outfit was worn and faded in such a way as to suggest that it had been washed many times over. On top of all of this, she was wearing a tattered shawl that looked to be made of some very coarse wool.

Kallian had also applied an interesting assortment of cosmetics. Zevran was no expert, but it seemed as though she had smeared either ash or dirt onto her face and neck. Her eyes were accentuated with dark circles that gave her a bruised look, and her hair now fell around her face in stringy clumps. Finally, she had somehow managed to give her tan skin a pale cast that made her seem sickly and waifish.

Taking in the entire picture, Zevran answered her honestly. "You look like a lyrium addict who just spent four months in a gutter."

"Damn right I do." The Warden seemed pleased with his answer. Walking into the room to stand next her cousin, she raked an apprising look over him. "I've got your clothes in the back. My dad is a bit bigger than you, but that'll just add to the image."

"Wonderful."

Kallian smirked at him. "Don't worry; it'll just be for a few minutes. After that you can go back to being all pretty-like."

"It won't be soon enough." Zevran stood up from his chair and sighed in resignation. "Very well, let's get this over with."

…

xxXxx

…

Twenty minutes later, Zevran found himself squatting in a miserable little alley like an unloved pet. Drawing the thin cloak that Kallian had given him around his shoulders, he grimaced against the cold and resisted the urge to scratch at his face. The mixture of ash, dirt, and grease that Kallian had spread over his cheeks was incredibly uncomfortable. It was like having dried honey on his skin.

Kallian was crouched a few feet in front of him. The Warden was peeking around the edge of the wall in order to study the outside of the Tevinter clinic. As he waited for her to finish, Zevran occupied his time with thinking various resentful thoughts. He was indebted to her for sparing his life, but that didn't make this any more enjoyable. Had it been anyone else, Zevran would have cheerfully told them to go pound sand.

When she finally drew back, Kallian turned around to face Zevran and the others. "I count three men outside. One has a staff and the other two have swords."

Leliana clucked her tongue. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to set up on one of the roofs? You might need some support if things don't go as planned."

"I'm sure. These houses are low and pretty far from the clinic's entrance. You'd be really visible." Kallian voice was clipped and authoritative. Ever since they had left her house, the Warden had been as serious as a Blight. "Besides, I wouldn't trust these roofs to hold your weight. They collapse pretty regularly on their own."

Shianni bit her lip. "But the two of you will be outnumbered."

"You needn't worry about us." Zevran flashed a broad grin. "With surprise on our side, Kallian and I will be more than capable of handling a few oafish thugs."

"And a mage."

Kallian brushed her cousin's comment off. "Mages bleed just like everybody else. We'll be fine."

Sensing that Kallian was ready to go, Zevran slid the wineskin off of his belt and held it out to Shianni. "It might be best if you hold onto this. I would be extremely put out if it were to go off at an inopportune time."

"Alright, I can do that." Shianni took it from him and then turned a nervous gaze towards her cousin. "I'll be here when you guys get back."

Zevran gave her the most suggestive smile he could manage. "Is that a promise?"

A very faint blush rose up in her cheeks. Grinning in response, Shianni rolled her eyes and cradled the wineskin with more care than it merited. "So long as you don't let my cousin get herself killed."

Kallian glanced between the two of them with a sour expression. "You ready, Zevran?"

Zevran checked to make sure his dagger was fully-concealed up his sleeve before drawing his crossbow from its holster on his back. Planting the weapon front-end down in snow, Zevran stepped on the metal brace and reached down to cock the bow into position. He then drew one of the bolts out of the small quiver and fit it into the firing groove. Concealing the entire thing under the ratty cloak that Kallian had given him, Zevran looked up and gave the Warden a short nod.

"Now I am."

"Good, make sure to sell the act as we go. If they raise the alarm, this plan goes tits up."

"Never fear, my dear Warden. I am a thespian at heart."

"Glad to hear it. I think it's best if we do the mage first. He's the one that could cause problems."

Leliana slid the case containing her bow off of her back. "I'll be ready if you need me to cover your retreat."

"That's good thinking." Kallian nodded judiciously. "Let's pray that it won't be necessary. I don't think we can afford to mess things up at this point."

The Orlesian woman moved forward to lay a hand on Kallian's arm. "Just be careful."

"When have I ever been careful?" The Warden gave her a strained smile. "Keep in mind, this is the easy part."

After Leliana had withdrawn her hand, Kallian squared her shoulders as she motioned for Zevran to follow her. They walked to the entrance of the alley and stopped just before exiting.

"I'll be honest," Kallian murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "I really want to kill someone right now."

Zevran chuckled. "Pursue that feeling."

Kallian tossed an arm over Zevran's shoulder and leaned heavily against him. Returning the embrace so that his crossbow was hidden under their cloaks and behind her back, Zevran hunched over as if her slight weight was a burden. Together, they staggered out of the alley and into the courtyard beyond.

The clinic was at the opposite side of the pavilion that the two of them had entered. In the dead center of the circular space, the giant Vhenadahl loomed overhead like a cloud of spindly fingers. Its thick boughs were bare in accordance with the winter, making it seem foreboding and ugly to Zevran's eyes.

It didn't take him long to see the three men that Kallian had mentioned. They were huddled around a small fire that was set close to a squat building that had to be the medical clinic. The men hadn't noticed Zevran and Kallian as of yet, but they were close enough that Zevran could see the steam that accompanied each of their breaths.

After they had taken several steps, Kallian stumbled as if her legs had given out from under her. Zevran helped her regain her feet, and as he did, she muttered to him in a low voice. "By the way: stay the fuck away from my cousin."

"Honestly, I don't know why you people take me places. It's always: 'Don't flirt with the queen, Zevran.' Or, 'stay away from my cousin, Zevran.'" He heaved a theatrical sigh as they resumed their tottering progress. "You treat me as if I'm some type of lecher."

"Just know that I'll tear off your fruits if you touch her."

"Well now, that seems excessive."

Any further conversation would have to wait now that they had drawn close enough to attract attention. The three men had caught sight of the two of them and Zevran could see them conversing with one another. Kallian stumbled once more, and this time Zevran pretended as though he was close to overbalancing as well. Adopting a panicked expression, he glanced up at the three men and urgently waved them over.

Just as he hoped, the men stepped away from the clinic without a second thought. Zevran and Kallian were at least twenty yards away from the building's entrance, but the Tevinters didn't show the slightest sign of caution. That was part of what this plan was hinging on. After spending several weeks without experiencing any resistance from the Alienage elves, the soldiers had grown complacent.

Once the men had reached them, the mage gave them what he must have thought was a concerned look. "Heavens above, what ails you my friends?"

"Please, my lord." Kallian's voice was a hoarse croak. "Take me in. I should have come sooner."

"Of course we shall help you, dear child. The plague is a terrible thing, but we will give you what you need to overcome." The mage turned a phony smile in Zevran's direction. "It would be best if you came as well, sir. The risk of infection is quite high in those that are close to the afflicted."

Kallian slid her arm off of Zevran's shoulders and made as if to walk towards the mage. Almost immediately, she pretended to trip and stumble forward. Surprised, the mage reached out his arms as if to impede her fall.

That instinctive gesture was the last thing he would ever do. Snaking a slender arm underneath his larger one, Kallian deftly slipped one of her thin daggers between his ribs and into the vital tissue of his lungs. Using her hand to muffle his mouth, the Warden withdrew her dagger in a flash of metal.

She stabbed him twice more before anyone else could act. Zevran didn't wait for the guards to process what was happening. Throwing back his cloak, he brought the crossbow to bear and fired it pointblank into the face of the nearest soldier. He then dropped the cumbersome weapon and drew his dagger.

The final man had time for a single, startled cry before Zevran's dagger swept across his throat. Guiding the gurgling corpse down to the ground, Zevran sunk down into a low crouch. The whole thing had only taken a handful a seconds and he was fairly certain that the final man's cry had not been loud enough to cause any alarm. All the same, both he and Kallian froze in place as they waited for any sign that their actions had been noticed.

After a few tense moments, Kallian relaxed and took her hand off of the dead mage's mouth. She then shrugged off the shawl she had been wearing and waved it above her head as though it were a flag. From across the courtyard, Leliana appeared at the mouth of the alley and started towards them with a brisk trot.

While waiting for the bard to meet up with them, Zevran took a quick moment to reload his crossbow and examine the corpses of the men they had killed. The soldiers where carrying short, double-edged blades of the style that the Tevinter legionnaires favored. Along with their domed helmets and segmented armor, it confirmed every suspicion that he had about their origins.

Leliana slowed to halt once she had drawn close. Bow in hand, she nodded at Kallian. "Everything went smoothly?"

"As silk." The Warden jerked her head at the door. "No time to talk. Zevran, you're up."

Nodding, Zevran slipped a hand to his belt and unfastened the latch that kept his chemical case closed. He pulled a thin vial that was made from a unique type of crystal. It contained just over six ounces of the most corrosive acid known to Thedas. Colloquially named "bone-eater" in certain parts of Antiva, the acid was most commonly used by dwarves in order to clean uncut stones of lyrium.

It also worked wonders when it came to dissolving metal.

With Kallian and Leliana in tow, Zevran moved past the corpses and towards the faux clinic. Although it would have been easier to look for the key on the bodies of the dead Tevinters, the three of them had decided that it was better to do this hard and fast. Even the sound of a key in the lock might be enough to put the men inside on their guard.

Gingerly uncorking the vial of acid, Zevran placed the lip of the tube flush against the door's upper hinge. He then tipped a fourth of the contents of the vial onto the hinge before stooping to do the same to the lower one. A few seconds later, thin wisps of smoke arose from both points of contact. Quickly glancing at both Kallian and Leliana to make sure they were ready, Zevran lifted his boot and kicked the door with as much force as he could muster.

The door flew inwards to reveal a roomful of very surprised Tevinter soldiers. There were seven in total with a single mage rounding out the group. Three of the men were seated a table with playing cards in their hands, and the rest were simply longing near the fireplace.

Savoring the shock and confusion that was etched onto their faces, Zevran darted forward with his crossbow in one hand and his dagger in the other. The mage was the real threat, but one of Leliana's arrows took him in the throat long before Zevran could act. Mentally shrugging, he settled for stabbing one of the guards who had half-risen from the card table.

It was not even close to a fair fight. The men reeked of beer and most did not even have their weapons at hand. One of the other card players at the table gathered his wits in time to lurch towards Zevran with a belt knife clenched in his fist

Before the soldier could even bring the puny weapon to bear, Zevran stepped forward to drive his knee into the man's unmentionables. Though it was hardly an honorable blow, it was unquestionably effective. Moaning in distress the man curled in on himself and stumbled back a few steps. Mindful of the fact that they would need one of these men alive, Zevran angled his crossbow down and fired it directly at the center of the soldier's foot.

His opponent howled in agony as the metal bolt pinned his foot to the rotting floorboards. Deciding that the hobbled man was not much of a threat, Zevran moved on to engage the final man at the table. In the few seconds it had taken him to disable the second soldier, his companion had managed to draw his sword. Tossing the man a disparaging smile, Zevran stepped forward with his dagger held at the ready.

A few panicked shouts and the wet impacts of metal striking flesh sounded from behind him. The grisly harmony was a strong indication that Leliana and Kallian were well on their way towards dealing with the others. Confident that they would watch his back, Zevran focused his attention on the man in front of him.

The soldier was had lowered himself into a combat stance that placed a great deal of weight on his back foot. With his short sword held at an upward angle, the Tevinter soldier could thrust forward quickly and with considerable force. With a shield in his hand and twenty men at his side, it would be a devastating style. As it was, it just made him predictable.

Zevran still advanced cautiously out of respect for the man's superior reach. He feinted with his dagger in an attempt to lure the soldier into making a rash maneuver, but the man apparently had discipline. Instead of taking the bait, he simply watched Zevran with a sneer on his lips.

When he did attack, it was with an admirable degree of speed. The solider lunged forward in a practiced motion and punched his sword upwards. There was too much momentum behind the attack for Zevran to safely block it, so he simply danced backwards. Waggling his eyebrows mockingly as the man settled back into his stance, Zevran decided it was time for a counterattack.

He darted forward and drew back his dagger as if he were going to slash at the man's face. When the man raised his sword arm to deflect the attack, Zevran twisted his body and swung his crossbow up instead. Using the metal arm of the bow as a hook, Zevran snagged hold of the soldier's wrist and yanked downwards.

Not only did it effectively render the man's sword useless, but it also jerked him off balance. Seizing the opening he had created, Zevran thrust his dagger under the bony plate of the man's sternum and up into his heart. Twisting the blade for good measure, Zevran jerked it free and stepped back as his opponent collapsed into a heap.

He turned around to find that this portion of their plan was all but finished. Aside from the man that he had skewered in place, every Tevinter soldier was dead or dying. Leliana was in the process of freeing her arrow from the mage's throat, and Kallian had already turned her attention away from the corpses.

She immediately started walking towards a door that was set on the opposite wall from the entrance. With her bloody dagger still clenched in one hand, Kallian tried the door handle before looking back. "It's locked. I bet one of these bastards has the key on him."

"My guess is the mage." Leliana murmured as she bent over the corpse in question. "It might be best if we check the others though."

Zevran walked over to the card table and used a discarded cloak to wipe his dagger free of gore. Motioning towards the Tevinter soldier with the bolt lodged in his foot, he gave the Warden a sly grin. "Why don't you ladies take care of that delightful business while I keep an eye on our friend here? I don't think he's going anywhere, but it never hurts to be sure."

"Found it." Leliana pulled a necklace out of the front of the mage's robes and broke the chain with a jerk. "Here, try this and see if it fits."

Kallian caught the key that Leliana tossed to her and turned back to the door. Although he was curious to see what lay beyond, Zevran casually leaned against the table and set about reloading his crossbow. He then dangled the weapon over his folded arm and watched as the prisoner clutched at his foot.

"You could probably just pull it out." He mentioned offhandedly as the man gingerly touched the metal shaft of the bolt. "There aren't any barbs on the head. The only concern I would have is that it will bleed quite a lot."

"Go fuck your mother!"

Zevran clucked his tongue. "Now that is just impolite."

Keeping his crossbow trained on the prisoner, Zevran watched out of the corner of his eye as Kallian used the key to open the door to the back room. She then disappeared through it without hesitation. A few moments later, he heard of chorus of voices all start up at once. Going tense until he realized that the sound was a happy one, Zevran settled back against the table and allowed himself to feel a moment's satisfaction. It seemed as though they had found some of abducted elves.

He half-expected Leliana to follow the Warden into the adjoining room, but the bard remained where she was with her hand on her bow. It was an admirable display of caution. Kallian was emotionally compromised in all of this, and thus it fell upon the two of them to remain level-headed.

Zevran brought his crossbow up to bear when someone poked their head through the destroyed doorway of the clinic's entrance. He relaxed and lowered the weapon when he saw that it was only Shianni. The red-headed elf cast a horrified look over the room before locking eyes with Zevran. Doing his best to give her an encouraging look, Zevran gently waved her away.

"You don't need to see this, _bella_. We'll be done here shortly."

"No," Shianni set her mouth into a grim line and took a few steps into the small room. "This is my home. I should be a part of this."

Zevran sighed and glanced over at Leliana for support. The bard just shook her head in a barely perceptible movement. Crossing over the room, Leliana placed a gentle hand on Shianni's shoulder and began to lead her to the back. "I believe Kallian has found some of your neighbors. We could use your help getting them away from this place safely."

The two of them vanished into the back room to leave Zevran alone with the Tevinter soldier. After a moment of listening to the commotion that was drifting from the adjoining room, Zevran turned to the prisoner and gave him a friendly smile.

"Where have you settled on the 'removing-the-arrow' issue? I would like it back at some point."

"Go fuck your—"

"Mother?" Zevran finished for him. "I heard you the first time. I'll have you know that is rapidly becoming less and less endearing."

The prisoner just glared back at him through a mask of pain and impotent rage. Sensing that the man wasn't much of a conversationalist, Zevran decided to just wait for the others to come back. He didn't have to occupy himself for very long. Less than a minute later, Kallian stepped out of the back room with Leliana at her side.

A collection of shabby-looking elves trailed behind the two women like a line of ducklings. It appeared as though the Tevinter soldiers were not picky when it came to who they had snatched. Zevran counted seven elves of various ages. The youngest was a girl of no more than ten summers, and the oldest a man who would probably have trouble eating anything tougher than porridge. All of them had the wan, pinched look of people who had been terrorized.

The freed elves clustered up as soon as they caught sight of all of the corpses. Zevran was strongly reminded of a flock of sheep as they all pressed close together. Keeping a pleasant smile on his face, he watched as Kallian led them across the room.

She nodded at Zevran once she had closed the distance between them. Flicking a glance in the prisoner's direction, she spoke up in a flat tone. "He say anything?"

"Nothing that bears repeating. I take it that this isn't everyone who was taken?"

"Let's hope not." Kallian's tone was tight and angry. "Give me a minute and then we'll see if we can't get him to confide in us."

"I look forward to it."

The Warden then turned to Shianni and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Get everyone back to their homes safely. Afterwards, gather anyone who's willing to turn the tables on these bastards and meet back here in an hour."

"Do you think that anyone will come?" Shianni gave Kallian an uncertain look. "We aren't warriors, Kallian."

"Start with Janos and Beckitt. They always handled themselves pretty well when we got into scraps. After that, go to the families of anybody who is missing. Remind them of what's at stake and then smack them if they still don't have the stones to do the right thing."

One of the elves behind Kallian stepped forward. He was a scrawny youth who wasn't old enough to grow a beard. Even so, he held his chin up and tried to look brave. "If you lot are planning on doing something about this, I'll help. They can't get away with this."

Kallian favored him with a small smile before nodding at Shianni. "He won't be the only one. Trust me on that."

"Ok," Shianni drew herself up. "I'll get everyone I can."

"I know. Just go quickly."

Kallian walked her cousin to the door and stood there as the pitiable procession filtered out into the courtyard beyond. As the elves left, Zevran decided it was time to get their prisoner in the right frame of mind. Drawing a leather thong from his belt, Zevran stepped behind the crippled Tevinter soldier to bind his hands behind his back. The man resisted at first, but Zevran quickly brought his dagger up to press against the man's cheek in an unspoken warning. It proved to be all the encouragement the man needed to play nice.

Just as he finished tying the knots, the Warden strolled back over towards the two of them with a deceptively casual stride. Between his bonds and the bolt that was still lodged deeply in his foot, the soldier was effectively helpless. Remaining behind the prisoner, Zevran shot a quick look over to where Leliana was leaning against the wall. The bard's eyes were on Kallian and her expression was unreadable.

Kallian stopped in front of the prisoner and studied his face for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was curiously mild. "Where are the other elves?"

The man spat directly in her face. "Knife-eared cunt."

Zevran savagely kicked the back of the prisoner's knee. Crying out as he collapsed forward on his injured limb, the solider would have fallen flat on his face if Zevran hadn't caught hold of his hair and jerked back. Holding the man in this contorted position, Zevran looked up to see that Kallian was carefully wiping her cheek off with a small handkerchief. She then folded the piece of cloth and returned it to her pocket.

"He seems really tough." She commented as though nothing had happened. "I'd bet that he doesn't frighten easily."

Zevran smiled down at the prisoner. "You're right. It will probably take months of torture before he says a single word. We might just be wasting our time with this one."

Kallian circled around the prisoner so that she was standing next to Zevran. Bending down, she drew a very thin dagger from the inside of her boot. She tested the point of it with her finger for a moment before looking down at the soldier.

"Unfortunately, we don't have months." She smiled. It was a cold and ugly thing. "Let's try this one more time: where are the other elves?"

The solider didn't respond this time. He just glared up at her with his jaw set defiantly. After a long pause, Kallian heaved a dramatic sigh and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess I should have expected this. No one ever wants to do things the easy way."

Kallian's hand suddenly shot forward and grabbed hold of the man's chin. Digging her fingers into his skin cruelly, she forced his mouth open. The solider tried to jerk away, but Zevran kept a tight grip on his hair. Lifting her dagger, Kallian held it point-first over the man's face.

"So, this is how things are going to work." Kallian sounded as though she was discussing the weather. "I'm going to keep asking you that same question. Every time you don't answer, I'm going to take out one of your teeth. With this."

To emphasize her point, the Warden lowered the knife and tapped it against the man's front tooth. The solider flinched at the contact and snorted out a harsh breath. A bead of sweat gathered along the man's hairline to snake its way down his face.

Kallian lifted the blade meaningfully. "If you make it past five, then you'll be setting a record. Now, where are the elves?"

The man struggled against Zevran's grip. Twisting his grip on the man's hair, Zevran pulled backwards until the prisoner gave up. Casting a look over at the Warden, Zevran brought his free hand up to thoughtfully stroke his chin. "Maybe you should start with his front teeth. He seems like a vain man in my opinion."

"No, I think I'll start in the back." Kallian mused as she studied the man's face. "Only on the top though. It will give him something to remember us by every time he tries to chew. It's a good thing we are wearing these shitty clothes. This next part gets pretty messy."

She hooked the man's lip with her finger and drew it back to expose two rows of white teeth. The moment she did, the man uttered a mangled yelp. "No!"

Kallian released his lip and cocked her head to one side. "Oh? Did you have something to say?"

"Please, don't cut me!" The man's breath had started coming out in panicked bursts. "I'll tell you where they are!"

"I must say," Zevran raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. "It's remarkable how the threat of horrifying disfigurement can instill a few manners."

Kallian made a big show of being ambivalent before finally lowering the knife. Moving so that she could comfortably look the man in the eye, the Warden crouched down and fixed him with a cold stare. "Before you say anything, I want us to be perfectly clear. If what you say next is true, then Zevran here will slip you something to make you sleep for a few hours. You'll wake up outside the city walls and then you'd do well to start running and never look back."

"Rest assured," Zevran smiled down at the man. "We will be checking the information very carefully."

"And if that information is just some bullshit you're feeding us, I'm going to take a knife to you out of spite." Kallian tapped the man's chin with her dagger. "After I'm done doing that, the kiddy gloves are coming off. Do we have an understanding?"

The man swallowed thickly. "Yes."

"Fantastic. Now where are they?"

"We took that brick building to the east. The one next to all the storehouses." The soldier spoke quickly as if he were afraid that Kallian would change her mind if he took too long. "Caladrius has the elves in the basement."

"Caladrius?"

"He's the Magister in charge. If you want someone to blame for this, it's him."

"I think I can decide who to blame on my own." Kallian's mouth thinned into a wintry smile. "How many men do you have there?"

The man seemed to think for a moment. "Perhaps half a score."

"How many mages?"

"The Magister brought four along with us."

Kallian nodded thoughtfully. "See, the easy way is so much better for everyone involved."

With that, the Warden turned on her heel and strode over to where Leliana was standing. The two women exchanged a few hushed words, and then Leliana pushed off of the wall with a short nod. Casting a look back at the prisoner, Leliana walked to the entrance of the clinic and ducked outside.

"Our friend is going to make sure you're telling the truth." Kallian spoke in a conversational tone as she walked back towards the prisoner. "If I were you, I'd just sit there and pray that no one decides to revisit the 'knife-eared cunt' remark."

The prisoner lowered his eyes to the floor and did an admirable job of not moving. Zevran almost asked Kallian if he should remove the arrow, but then he realized that he didn't really care either way. Glancing over the man's bowed head, Zevran smiled at the Warden.

"You know, it's probably best if we start working on your disguise for the next part. It will take a little while for the bruises to form."

Kallian grimaced. "I thought we'd wait until after Leliana confirmed our friend's story."

"I would much prefer to do this without our lovely bard present." Zevran gave Kallian a bashful shrug. "Something tells me that she would not look kindly on my actions regardless of whether or not you asked me to do it."

"Fine, let's get it over with."

Kallian sheathed her dagger and walked several steps away from the bound prisoner. Following her lead, Zevran moved to stand in front of her before gently setting his crossbow on the ground. As he straightened up, Kallian blew out a breath and shook her shoulders loose.

"Just not the nose, alright?"

"The nose is terribly convincing."

"It also hurts like a son of a bitch and Wynne isn't here to—"

Zevran punched her solidly in the mouth. Staggering backwards in shock and pain, Kallian clutched at her face and stamped her feet against the floorboards. "Ohhh…You motherfucker!"

"I find it helps if you aren't expecting it."

"Eat a dick." Kallian pulled her hand away from her mouth and spat to the side. Turning back to him with an unhappy expression, Kallian tenderly touched her lip. "Shit, that hurts. Does it look good?"

Her bottom lip was split and already beginning to swell. The thin trickle of blood that was weaving its way down her chin just added to the effect. Tilting his head to one side as if admiring a piece of art, Zevran nodded in approval. "It looks dreadful; now for the others."

"Damn it."

"Hush, remember that it is for a good cause." Zevran drew his hand back. "Close your eyes, this one is going on the cheek."

…

xxXxx

…

It took them over two hours to get everything in place. The sky above was now streaked with red and purple stains as the sun gave ground to the approaching night. They hadn't planned on using the cover of darkness, but it certainly wouldn't hurt.

Most of the delay was the result of Shianni experiencing some difficulty finding volunteers. Even so, Kallian's cousin ended up being much more successful than Zevran would have assumed. When she had finally returned to the clinic, she had managed to recruit over a dozen elves in total.

That wasn't to say that they were prime specimens. Aside from two burly young men with heavily-tattooed skin, most of the volunteers looked as though they were about to throw up from nerves. Clutching the bizarre assortment of improvised weapons that Leliana had fashioned, the elves looked like the world's most unprepared lynch mob. Still, the fact that they were willing to even show up spoke of a bravery that Zevran found admirable.

Shianni cleared her throat against the silence that had fallen over the group. Ever since Kallian and Leliana had left to perform some final reconnaissance of the brick building, she had begun looking less and less certain of herself. "I don't know about this, Zevran. Shouldn't we just get the City Guard?"

"I doubt very much that they would even listen to us." Zevran placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and silently hoped that this wasn't enough to warrant his castration. "Have faith in your cousin, _bella_. She's may be insane, but it's the good kind of crazy."

It won him a small smile. Nodding to herself, Shianni chuckled dryly. "You know, I never got the chance to ask how you all know her. Is she your boss or something?"

"Or something," Zevran winked at her, and then realized that it probably just looked like blinking because of his eye-patch. "Suffice to say, I owe her a debt that will take some time to repay."

"Oh."

As if their conversation had summoned her, Kallian appeared from behind a nearby house with Leliana in tow. Moving over to join with the rest of the group, the Warden immediately made for where Zevran and Shianni were standing. She had changed back into her leather and fur armor as soon as they had left the clinic. Aside from the mess of bruises that spotted her face and neck, she was back to looking like the elf that Zevran knew and tentatively liked.

Once she and Leliana had drawn close, the Warden spoke up in a low tone. "I've got some good news. We finally caught sight of a few Tevinter soldiers so it looks like our prisoner wasn't pulling our leg. Speaking of which, are you sure he'll be out for a few hours?"

"Oh yes. It will actually be closer to ten hours." Zevran smiled to himself. "Are you really planning to let him go free?"

"Fuck no. He's going straight to Eamon's guards once this all over."

"You're feeling merciful."

"Slavery is a capital offense; he'll get what he deserves." Kallian glanced over at the assembled elves before turning to Shianni. "You know what you have to do?"

"As soon as we see the signal, we deal with the door and rush in." Shianni recited as though she were an eager pupil in the midst of a lecture. "All we need is the stuff you used at the clinic and we're all set over here."

Taking that as a cue, Zevran drew the vial of Bone-Eater from his belt and extended it towards Shianni. Drawing it back for a moment when she reached out her hand to take it, Zevran gave her a perfectly serious look. "Remember: don't let a drop touch your skin. It would be the single worst experience of your entire life."

"I get it. I'll be careful."

Smiling at the impatient note in her voice, Zevran handed Shianni the vial. With that taken care of, there was only one last order of business to deal with before they were ready. Drawing the same leather thong that he had previously used on the Tevinter soldier, Zevran motioned for Kallian to turn around.

The Warden just stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Binding your hands, of course." Zevran smiled cheerfully at her. "You are our prisoner after all."

"Is that really necessary?"

He blinked. "I would say that it is. After all, the Crows are professionals. We don't just let our captives run about as they please. If you aren't restrained, it will make them suspicious."

Kallian shifted her weight from foot-to-foot for a moment before releasing a sigh. Turning around with mechanical stiffness, she extended her arms behind her back reluctantly. A touch confused with her behavior, Zevran stepped forward and knotted the leather around her wrists with an efficient motion. As soon as he finished, Kallian tested the bounds.

"Tight."

"You'll be able to slip free when the time comes."

Leliana drew a folded square of cloth out of her pocket. "I would also recommend a gag. It will keep them from focusing on you. I've found that people tend to overlook what you're doing when you aren't speaking."

Kallian looked displeased. "Damn it all…that is clean, right?"

"I'm offended that you would even ask." Leliana smiled as she wadded up the cloth in her hands and held it out like an offering. Glaring at the bard, Kallian opened her mouth wide enough for Leliana to pop the gag between her teeth. Not content to leave it at that, Leliana than reached up and took Kallian's bandanna off with a jerk. Wringing the fabric into a cord, she tied the gag in place and stepped back.

Zevran spread his hands. "Ah, you are the picture of captivity."

Kallian mumbled something illegible around her gag. If Zevran had to guess from the expression on her face, it was likely unpleasant.

"I believe that is everything." Leliana adjusted the dagger on her belt so that it was clearly visible. "Shianni, you should wait a few minutes after we go inside before moving into position."

Shianni nodded. "We'll be there."

"Then let's go do something very stupid."

With that, the bard wrapped a hand around Kallian's left arm. Taking the Warden's other side, Zevran nodded at Leliana and the three of them started walking. The group was concealed in a side-street some two-hundred yards from their objective, but they would have to begin their act long before they arrived at the brick building. As soon as they rounded the corner and stepped onto the Alienage's main road, Kallian began to struggle in their grip. Leliana and Zevran immediately hoisted her up by her arms and made of show of dragging her along.

There were no guards posted outside. Unlike the other structures in the Alienage, the large brick building had windows that had been pieced together from random scraps of colored glass. Based on the faded sigil of the Maker that hung over wooden door, Zevran guessed that the building might serve as an unofficial Chantry. It was technically sacrilege to operate an unsanctified house of the Maker, but Zevran imagined that the elves just used it for festival services and the like.

Even if they didn't have an audience, the three of them never dropped their act for a moment. All it would take was a single slip-up to doom them all.

Once they had drawn close, Zevran could clearly hear the sounds of men talking from within. The Tevinters were making no efforts to disguise themselves. Seeing as they had no need to fear the City Guards or the elves, Zevran imagined that they didn't feel the need to.

Coming to a halt in front of the door, Zevran lifted his free hand and knocked sharply against the wood. Like magic, the voices from inside the building immediately fell silent.

There was a brief pause, and then a gruff voice drifted out from behind the door. "Who goes there?"

"Teyrn Loghain sends his regards."

A much longer pause greeted this pronouncement. Zevran could barely make out the sound of footsteps as people moved about inside. Just as he was beginning to think that it would be best to abandon this ploy, the door cracked open a few inches to reveal a Tevinter solider. Glaring at them for a moment, the man spat out a question. "What do you want?"

"My business is with the Magister. I assure you that it is something he will want to hear."

The soldier looked over his shoulder as if checking for confirmation. Opening the door a little wider, he stepped back in an implied invitation. "If any of you make a sudden move, you're all dead."

As soon as they stepped inside, Zevran saw that it wasn't an idle threat. Spread out around the large room in loose semicircle, a dozen Tevinter soldiers stood with their weapons drawn and at the ready. Five of them were carrying heavy iron crossbows that were more than capable of piercing plate armor. Most concerning of all were the three mages that were safely beyond the protective ring of soldiers. Two of them stood with staves in hand, and the third was seated behind a large wooden table at the far end of the room.

Zevran was beginning to believe that Kallian might be the wrong type of crazy after all.

The soldier who had opened the door for them pointed a short spear at Zevran's remaining eye. "Weapons on the floor. Now."

"Of course," Zevran tried to sound as carefree as possible. Slowly drawing his crossbow off of his back, he did his best to ignore the way that all the soldiers tensed up at the motion. After setting it on the floor with exaggerated care, he drew his dagger from his belt and placed it next to the bow. Beside him, Leliana mirrored his actions.

The lead soldier motioned for them to back away so that he could gather up the discarded weapons. Taking a moment to glance around the room, Zevran tried to get a better sense of their surroundings.

There were a number of temporary billets set up along the eastern wall. It seemed as though the Tevinter forces were using this as a barracks as well as their headquarters. If the man back at the clinic had been telling the truth, then the building should have a cellar or basement of some sort. He looked around for an entrance to said basement, but he didn't see an obvious one.

"Spread your arms and legs. Don't move." The soldier who had taken their weapons watched them warily as Leliana and Zevran complied with his order. Moving forward, the Tevinter man began brusquely patting Zevran down in the search for concealed weapons. It was an amateur job. The man didn't even bother checking the inside of Zevran's belt or underneath the leather bracers he wore on his forearms. The oversight left Zevran with a wire garrote and a single throwing dagger. It was hardly an arsenal, but the important part was that the soldier didn't even spare a glance at the wineskin on Zevran's belt.

The man then repeated the search on Leliana and took a noticeably longer time in doing so. For her part, Leliana gave no sign that the man's touch was bothering her. In fact, the brazen smile she directed in his direction was almost inviting. It was certainly enough to put a smug smile on the soldier's pockmarked face.

When the soldier moved to search Kallian, Zevran prepared himself for trouble. The moment the man bent forward to begin the pat down, Kallian stepped back with a low growl. Like clockwork, the soldiers with the crossbows all swiveled to point their weapons directly at her. It stopped the Warden in her tracks.

Giving Kallian a warning look, the man stepped forward and started his search. It was a cursory inspection that culminated in the soldier checking the bonds around her hands. Clearly, the solider didn't think a bound elf presented much of a threat.

"They're clear." The man called back to the others before moving around to stand behind Zevran. Lightly prodding Zevran's back, the solider drew his sword with his other hand. "Move forward and keep your hands visible."

"As you like."

Dragging Kallian between them, Leliana and Zevran began walking forward cautiously. The soldiers followed their motions with a degree of watchfulness that made Zevran uneasy. Their plan required that the soldiers drop their guard. If the Tevinters kept this up, then things were going to go very poorly.

The soldiers kept them walking until they were roughly five feet from the man behind the table. From behind Zevran, the lead soldier called out in an authoritative tone. "No further."

Zevran and Leliana stopped dutifully. The soldiers spread out around them in a fashion that was undeniably menacing. Two men came up behind them with swords drawn, and Zevran could practically feel the eyes of the crossbowmen on his back.

Mentally apologizing to Kallian, Zevran shifted his grip on the Warden's shoulder and forcibly pushed her down. Kallian grunted when her knees connected with the hard wooden floorboards. She then shot Zevran a look of such enmity that he sincerely hoped that she was just keeping in character.

He turned his attention to the man behind the desk. Bald as an egg and cursed with a bulbous nose, the man sat with his thin fingers clasped together. If Zevran had to guess, the Tevinter Magister was on the wrong side of forty. His robes were cut in an elegant style with wide sleeves and an impressive mantle. Unlike the relatively plain garments of the other two mages, his were richly embroidered with golden thread. Lifting one pale hand to stroke his pointed beard, the Magister regarded Kallian's kneeling form for a moment before glancing between Zevran and Leliana. Shrugging slightly, he spoke up in a cultured tone.

"Allow me to be frank with you. I was not expecting a message from the Teyrn nor do you look like men in his employ. I would suggest that you produce a very compelling reason for me not to kill you right here and now."

"Considering the men in Loghain's employ, I'll choose to take that as a compliment." Zevran smiled and gave no sign that he had heard the Magister's threat. "Since you asked however, allow me to assure you that I'm here as his representative. Consider me a contractor of sorts."

"I do not enjoy playing games, elf. Speak plainly."

"But of course." Zevran bobbed his head in a deferential nod. "Given the delicate political climate of late, Teyrn Loghain has come to the conclusion that it is unwise to have any direct connection to such a controversial figure as yourself. Being that I represent a third party with no official presence in Ferelden, he assumed that it would be safer to employ me as an intermediary."

"Third party?"

In response, Zevran turned slightly and drew back the sleeve of his wool shirt to bare his upper arm. He allowed the Magister a few moments to study the insignia that had been inked onto his skin before lowering his sleeve. "I think you might have heard of us."

"Indeed." A gratifying flash of trepidation passed over the Magister's face. "I was not aware that the Crows had any interest in these matters. My people have always endeavored to maintain a constructive relationship with your organization and I would be distressed to see that changed."

"Please, allow me to reassure you that the Crows place considerable value in our friendships. If anything, tonight will only strengthen our bond."

"In what way, precisely?"

"I'm so very glad that you asked." Zevran lifted a hand to indicate Leliana. "My hope is that once we have concluded the Teyrn's business, you might be receptive to considering a…unrelated proposal."

Leliana took a step forward and gave Caladrius a masterpiece of a smile. It was polite, demur, and yet loaded with all the promises in the world. When she spoke, her accent had become thick and throaty. "It is a true pleasure to meet you, Magister Caladrius."

"The pleasure is all mine, I am sure." The Magister fixed Leliana with a curious look. "Though I fear you have me at a disadvantage."

"You may call me Leliana if you so wish. I have a proposition that I'm sure you will find—."

"Ahem, Leliana my dear," Zevran gave her a pained smile as if she had somehow embarrassed him. "I'm sure that there will be plenty of time to discuss such matters later. Considering that I was hired by Loghain, I feel as though it is only polite that I address his interests first and foremost."

Leliana's lips drew together in a thin line. Behind the table, Caladrius watched their interaction with a calculating looking in his dark eyes. Zevran could only imagine the thoughts that were racing inside of the mage's head. Caladrius was beginning to understand that there was an opportunity to be had here; he just wasn't sure what it was yet.

The Magister leaned back in his chair. "Before we address anyone's interests, I would like to know how the two you found me. I never informed the Teyrn of my whereabouts."

"I hope you did not truly believe that you could escape the Crows' notice." Zevran waved a careless hand. "We have eyes everywhere and the Alienage is no exception. Besides, you can't really expect to stay in the largest building in the district and still remained unnoticed."

"I see your point." Caladrius steepled his fingers and gave Zevran a sly smile. "However, I still am having trouble understanding why the Teyrn would enlist the help of an assassin and an Orlesian woman in something such as this. It seems especially unlikely in regards to the delicate nature of my operation."

Zevran chuckled. "I happen to be on retainer to the throne. The Teyrn decided to make good use of the Crows policy against disclosing information that pertains to our clients. As I am sure you are aware, we value secrecy above all else. It didn't hurt that Loghain was kind enough to offer us a considerable bonus as an incentive."

"And your lovely associate?"

This time, Zevran allowed his face to twitch. It was a subtle cue that he hoped the Magister would catch. "Ah…well, I fear that the Teyrn is not our only client. This meeting presents a unique opportunity, and I felt that a discreet introduction might benefit everyone present."

"In other words: Loghain does not know about her." Caladrius smiled at Zevran and then at Leliana. "You are occupying a precarious position, assassin."

"Nothing worthwhile is achieved without some risk." Zevran made a transparent attempt to brush off the Magister's guess. "After you hear all that I have to say, I am certain that my position will seem much more appealing. On that note, shall we begin?"

Caladrius waved a hand in a magnanimous gesture. "By all means."

Zevran hid a smile. The con was playing out just the way it should. Caladrius was intrigued by the situation and now he felt as though he had leverage over Zevran. It was a dangerous combination that would make him more receptive to a proposal. Zevran had removed most of the risk, now it was time to provide the incentive.

"The Teyrn has a favor he would like to ask of you." Zevran slowly reached down to his belt to avoid provoking the Tevinter soldiers. Pulling the coin purse that Leliana had prepared earlier, Zevran held it out in offering. "With his complements."

Caladrius raised two fingers in a signal to his guards. Immediately, the man who had searched them stepped forward and took the purse from Zevran's hand. Opening it carefully, the man stirred the coins with his finger but thankfully did not pour them out. His check complete, the soldier brought the purse over to the Magister's table and set it down. Caladrius gazed at it for a moment before laughing softly.

"Ferelden's coffers must be running thin if this is Loghain's idea of a bribe." He prodded the purse with his finger. "Even so, I make it a habit to never accept coin unless I know why it is being offered. If Loghain expects me to pay the rest of the promised sum before my work is complete, then you may as well take this back."

Zevran placed a hand on his chest. "Forgive me; I have misled you most severely. The word 'favor' has fostered the wrong impression. If I were to choose my words more precisely, then I might be inclined to say that the Teyrn is offering you a gift more than anything else."

"He does not seem to be the type to give gifts. What does he expect in return for this generosity?"

Zevran indicated Kallian with a sweep of his hand. "That you take one more slave with you when you go."

Caladrius eyebrows lifted in a polite expression of disbelief. Leaning forward, the Magister peered over the edge of the table at the kneeling Warden. Following his example, Zevran finally looked down to check on how Kallian was handling herself.

He was pleasantly surprised to see that she was playing her part magnificently. The Warden's amber eyes were alight with a fierce hatred that was too primal to be anything but genuine. She had been quiet throughout the entire conversation, but her breath was coming out rapidly as if she were enraged or panicked. Along with her bruises and the thin sheen of sweat that was covering her skin, the Warden was entirely convincing.

"The Teyrn is paying _me_ to take a slave?" Caladrius tapped a finger against his temple. "What is wrong with her?"

"He said nothing to me regarding any faults. Although, if I may interject a personal aside, I can tell you from my brief acquaintance with her that she is prone to more than her fair share of violence. I fear I may have been forced to become a bit rough in order to get her here."

The Magister seemed amused by the thought. "That is hardly a problem. Some of my buyers prefer having to take a firm hand when it comes to managing their property. She will be pretty enough once she is cleaned up. Certainly better than most of the pathetic specimens in this rat's nest."

"Lovely, then I will take news of your agreement to the Teyrn."

"Not quite so fast." Caladrius held up a hand as if Zevran was going to suddenly turn around and leave. "I want to know what Loghain gains from doing this."

"I believe that his motives are mostly centered around revenge. As you may or may not know, the Teyrn's daughter is in the process of recovering from a traumatic kidnapping attempt. Although most of the men involved were able to escape, the Teyrn's soldiers were able to capture this girl."

Caladrius laughed in pleasure. "Someone tried to kidnap the Queen? For what purpose?"

"I couldn't say." Zevran lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "The Teyrn was going to have her executed, but then he decided that he would prefer to see her more thoroughly punished. He hopes that you will be able to assist in such matters."

"We'll be sure to find a way to make her feel welcome. I assume that no one will come looking for her?"

"I doubt it. If her friends cared for her at all, they would not have left her behind in the first place. She's a Grey Warden, but I hardly believe that will—"

"A Grey Warden!"

Zevran blinked at the interruption. Magister Caladrius had half-risen from his chair and was now staring at Kallian with rapt interest. Wondering at the extreme reaction, Zevran nodded slowly. "That isn't a problem, I hope?"

"No, I daresay it is not!" The Magister sounded excited as he pushed his chair back and began making his way around the table. He stopped in front of Kallian and drew a small knife from a sheath on his belt. Glancing at Zevran, Caladrius waved the knife in Kallian's direction. "May I?"

Zevran hesitated. This was an unpleasant and entirely unexpected development. He wasn't sure what Caladrius was asking, but his instincts were telling him that it wasn't good. The only thing that kept him from protesting was the knowledge that breaking character would be a death sentence. Mentally praying that Leliana was on the same page, Zevran tossed Caladrius an indifferent smile.

"By all means; she is your slave after all."

Issuing a short laugh, Caladrius stepped forward and reached out as if to grab Kallian's chin. The Warden jerked back in response, but the Magister just made an impatient sound before taking hold of Kallian's short hair.

Leliana's fingers twitched as the mage brought the knife up to Kallian's face. Shooting the bard a warning look, Zevran tensed up in preparation. If the Magister went too far then they would just have to act sooner than anticipated and hope for the best.

With the care of a surgeon, Caladrius brought the point of the knife up to prick Kallian's cheek. The Warden stopped struggling when the blade touched her skin, but she released a low moan of discomfort when a bead of blood welled up beneath the blade's point. Before Zevran could even consider reaching for his wineskin, the Magister had already taken the knife away from Kallian's face. He then reached out a pale finger and gathered the drop of blood that he had drawn. Studying it like a prize, the Magister murmured a few words under his breath and smiled.

Blood-red lighting abruptly gathered around the mage's hand in a nimbus of crackling energy. All of the hairs on Zevran's arms stood up on end, and he flinched when Caladrius suddenly clenched his hand to release the collected energy in an explosive burst. Laughing, the Magister turned towards the mage who was standing off to the left.

"It is as we theorized; their blood is considerably more potent. The possibilities are endless!"

Zevran relaxed fractionally. "Everything is satisfactory then?"

"Oh yes, very much so." Caladrius smiled broadly and motioned for the two nearest guards. "Gaius, Seneca: take our newest acquisition downstairs. Separate her from the others and do not even consider taking any liberties. I wish her to remain unharmed until we return to our own shores."

Those words were music to Zevran's ears. Kallian put up a good show of resistance as the indicated soldiers began to drag her away, but it was all according to the plan. Once the soldiers took her to the basement, it would be a simple thing for the Warden to slip her bonds and incapacitate the two men. From there, Kallian could start freeing the captured elves and prepare them for what would come next.

Zevran watched as the soldiers led Kallian over to the far corner of the room. One of them bent down and lifted a trapdoor that presumably led into the basement. Satisfied that he now knew the building's layout, Zevran smiled at Caladrius.

"Now that we have the Teyrn's business out of the way, I was hoping you might be receptive to hearing a second offer."

"It would be rude of me to refuse." The Magister folded his arms with a smile to match Zevran's own. He was looking relaxed and satisfied. Zevran had a feeling that it was time to play their final card and get on with the violence.

"Wonderful." Zevran clapped his hands together. "Leliana? Perhaps you might explain your dilemma to the Magister."

The bard's lips curled into another beguiling smile. "I would be pleased to do so. Allow me to first say that I represent a certain foreign interest in matters of a delicate nature. I am not permitted to go into detail, but suffice to say that we have learned of your operation and are impressed."

"Foreign interest?" Caladrius rolled his eyes. "If I may ask, how is the Empress doing of late? She so rarely has contact with the Imperium."

Zevran almost laughed. It was remarkably easy to manipulate a man just by allowing him to think that he was the most clever person in the room. So long as Caladrius assumed that he understood everything that was going on, he wouldn't look too closely at how convenient this all was.

"All things are subject to change, Magister. Orlais is ready to consider establishing a partnership of sorts."

"How so?"

Leliana dropped her flirtatious smile. "I will be blunt. Many of us at the Royal Court have grown weary of dealing with the nation's elves. The Alienages are unseemly and tax revenue from the elven districts is deplorable. Several of the city governors have expressed concerns regarding possible riots over food shortages and the like. The Empress has attempted to institute a number of social welfare programs, but the elves have proven very uncooperative. It has gotten to the point where the Royal Advisors are eager to pursue alternative solutions to the problem."

"Let me see if I understand you." Caladrius looked like a child about to receive a present. "The Orlesian Court is requesting that I deal with this predicament?"

"Only because you have demonstrated that you are capable of discretion." Leliana slipped the magister a coy look. "The people of Orlais would never stand for the open practice of slavery. It is declared abominable by the Chantry. The only way such a thing could occur is if it contained under a veil of secrecy."

"Much as it is here in Denerim."

"Precisely."

Caladrius rubbed his hands together. "What would the Court demand in return for allowing me such an opportunity?"

"That would depend on how well it is executed. We would be interested in preforming a trial run of sorts. I am of the opinion that a small operation could be set up in Val Royeaux. It would be more of a test than anything else."

"And you would like _all_ the elves removed?"

"That would arose entirely too much suspicion. We would only like the population reduced by a fraction." Leliana waved her hand airily. "Our ultimate goal is to use some of the money generated by this transaction to restore the Alienage to reasonable conditions. Even the elves would end up benefitting from the arrangement."

"That's quite humane of you." Caladrius nodded sagely and spread his hands. "And what happens if this trial run works out smoothly?"

"Then the Court would be very receptive to expanding operations to the other cities. Orlais has many Alienages that are in need of repair." Leliana paused and gave the Magister a sultry grin. "For obvious reasons, you would have no direct contact with any government official. I would serve as your liaison for all transactions."

"In that case, I will have good reason to ensure that our relationship is a prosperous one." Caladrius's attempt at flirtation was enough to make Zevran roll his eyes. The Magister would be well-advised to save his charms for bed slaves. "Can I then assume that you will directly speak for the Empress?"

Leliana nodded and drew a rolled piece of parchment from the purse at her side. It was bound with a blue ribbon and Zevran could see that it was sealed with a red stamp of wax. Extending the scroll towards the Magister, Leliana smiled broadly. "I think this will answer all of your questions."

Zevran brought one of his hands up to wrap around the neck of the wineskin. This was the signal that they had agreed upon. Carefully sliding the skin free of his belt in a motion that went entirely unnoticed, he prepared himself to act.

In many ways, their little con had worked perfectly. The soldiers had all but lowered their weapons, and the Magister was dumbstruck with the possibility of lucrative contracts and Grey Warden blood. Everything that could be done had been done. Now it was just a matter of luck and the element of surprise.

"Excellent." The Magister smirked as he reached forward to take the scroll. "I think that Orlais will benefit from—"

The moment Caladrius's fingers touched the paper, Leliana casually reached over and broke his arm in two places.

Zevran didn't wait for anyone to react. He twisted his grip on the skin and pressed it against the side of his thigh so that the delicate glass vial he had threaded down its neck would shatter. The moment he felt the glass crack, Zevran hurled the skin into the air and started moving.

Equal parts of ground lyrium and glitterdust formed a compound known as Flash Powder. It was well-known for its use in Rivaini fireworks, but it also had limited application as a local anesthetic. Although it was technically an explosive, Flash Powder was stable and too weak to cause damage except in extremely large concentrations.

Unless of course it was mixed with an alcohol solution containing Embrium sap and trace amounts of Orichalcum. Then it became a rather different breed of animal.

_Five seconds…_

Zevran vaulted over the table as the Tevinter soldiers began to utter panicked cries. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Leliana pushing a screaming Caladrius down to the ground. Right now, the magically charged lyrium was beginning to interact with the flecks of Orichalcum. That reaction would produce the energy necessary to excite the remaining compounds.

_Four seconds…_

He grabbed hold of the edge of the table and flipped it on end. It wasn't the most ideal form of cover, but it would have to do.

_Three seconds…_

The wineskin landed on the floor of the room with a liquid "plop". Zevran had sealed the cork with pitch and strips of leather, so there was little chance of it bursting prematurely. Even so, the impact with the floor might have sped the reaction along. He clamped his hands over his ears just to be safe.

_Two seconds…_

Leliana scrambled behind the table and brought her hands up to cover her neck. A moment later, a quarrel from one of the crossbows punched through the thick wood of the table right above the bard's head. A moment later, the table shuddered as a second bolt slammed into its side.

_One second…_

The world splintered in a terrible eruption of light and sound. Even with his hands clamped firmly over his ears, Zevran winced as the concussive wave of noise jabbed its way into his skull. The table shielded the two of them from the worst of the blast, but the Tevinter soldiers had no such luck.

Zevran slid his throwing dagger free from his bracer with a satisfied smile. He had not wanted to discourage anyone before, but he had not been entirely convinced that his modified grenade would work. It was times like these when it paid off to be a lucky bastard. Standing up quickly, Zevran looked for his first target.

A large scorch mark near the center of the room marked the place where the wineskin had detonated. Although the bomb was far from lethal, it had practically incapacitated the Tevinter soldiers. Most of them were staggering about with their hands clutched against the sides of their head. Concussions and ruptured eardrums would soon be the least of their worries.

Zevran sprang around the side of the table and pounced on the nearest soldier. The man tried to bring up his sword when he saw Zevran approach, but his motions were sluggish and uncoordinated. Batting the man's sword arm away with a careless gesture, Zevran stepped close to his enemy and slipped his narrow dagger under the man's arm. The armpit might seem like an unusual target, but it was an almost direct path to a major blood vessel. Grimacing as the man's blood spurted onto his boots, Zevran pushed the man away and moved on.

His next target was obvious. One of the mages was on his knees with both hands covering his eyes. The man was hardly a threat at the moment, but Zevran respected the abilities of mages too much to allow the man even the slightest chance to recover. Clucking his tongue as he reached the mage, Zevran bent down and slit the man's throat with an efficient swipe of his blade. While Zevran had never been averse to killing a helpless man, he took no pleasure in it either.

As he straightened up, he was treated to the sight of Leliana killing a soldier with his own sword. The bard had left Magister Caladrius in a heap in front of the desk, and Zevran couldn't tell whether the blood mage was dead or merely unconscious.

The remaining Tevinter soldiers were beginning to rally. They were well-trained and most were already shaking off their confusion. Zevran knew that he and Leliana had to act quickly if they were to take an advantage.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran caught sight of a flash of movement. Craning his head to follow the motion, Zevran saw one of the crossbowmen bring his weapon to his shoulder and take aim at Leliana. Rather than call out to her, Zevran whipped his knife forward and released it in a sidearm throw.

His blade sailed through the air to embed itself in the man's eye-socket with a satisfying "thunk". As he collapsed, the soldier's hand tightened around the release of the crossbow in a dying spasm. The bolt shot forth from the weapon, but it was mercifully wide of its mark.

Although pleased with himself, Zevran now found himself in the unenviable position of being unarmed in a room full of enemies. As such, he was quick to retreat when one of the recovered soldiers charged at him with sword and shield in hand. Jumping back in a desperate attempt to avoid the man's sword, Zevran turned around and fled.

He imagined that he didn't look very dignified as he ran away from the soldier. At the same time, he was of the opinion that injured pride was preferable to a gushing chest wound. Reflexively ducking his head when he heard a twang of a crossbow firing, Zevran yelped when a quarrel zipped by in front of his face.

Mindful of the soldier chasing after him, Zevran made for the turned-over table in an effort to put something in between them. Unfortunately, he underestimated the speed of his pursuer. Before he could dart around the table, the soldier was upon him.

Zevran turned around and lunged to the side in a panicked effort to avoid the overhanded slash that the soldier sent his way. He almost lost an ear, but fortune favored him one more time. The sword missed his skull entirely and instead sunk deeply into edge of the table. The man tried to yank the blade free, but it was stuck fast in the hard wood.

For a moment, Zevran and the soldier shared a significant look as each began to appreciate this sudden turn of events.

Then, Zevran brought his hands up and slammed them against the man's ears. Rearing back in pain, the soldier released his grip on the sword and staggered away. Eager to capitalize on the opportunity that he had created, Zevran lunged towards the retreating man and swung a closed fist against the side of his neck. The soldier's eyes rolled up into the back of his head before his knees buckled and gave out.

It was at this moment that Shianni finally made her move. With a resounding crash, the front door of the building fell inwards to admit a gaggle of screaming elves into the room. Waving an assortment of clubs and what appeared to be saw blades, the volunteers charged at the baffled Tevinter soldiers. Their war-cries sounded more like terrified yelling to Zevran, but he had to say that the effect was intimidating nonetheless.

A bizarre string of guttural words sounded from off to Zevran's right. Tearing his eyes from the newly-arrived elves, Zevran turned to find himself staring directly at the second mage. The robed man was standing some fifteen feet away with his staff raised in a menacing fashion. As Zevran watched, it suddenly lit up with a purple light that seemed very ominous.

For a horrible instant, Zevran was convinced that he was about to be blown to pieces.

Thankfully, Leliana slammed into the mage in a blur of red hair and leather armor. The force of her attack mercifully interrupted whatever spell the mage was casting. Crying out as his staff fizzled and then lost its eldritch glow, the mage made as if to draw the knife that was sheathed on his belt. Cursing under his breath, Zevran started towards the man in order to help Leliana.

It turned out the bard didn't need his help. Scrambling to keep the man from drawing his knife, Leliana wrapped an arm around the mage's throat and yanked backwards. The man reached up to loosen her grip, but by that time Leliana had brought her other hand up to lock her chokehold in. After only a few seconds, the mage went limp as the bard cut off the blood flow to his brain.

Smirking as Leliana dropped the unconscious man, Zevran turned to help Shianni and the others. As soon as he did, he was treated to the most surprising thing he had seen all night.

The Tevinter soldiers had given up.

Eight well-armed and armored men were now standing with their arms over their heads in the universal gesture of surrender. From what Zevran could see, the volunteer elves hadn't even needed to use their weapons. It looked as though their sudden appearance had been enough to break what remained of the soldiers' morale. The truly amusing part was that Zevran was having a hard time deciding who looked more stunned by the situation: the soldiers or the elves.

At the forefront of the elven volunteers, Shianni stood pale-faced and holding a small club. Catching Zevran's eye, she gave him a short little wave. Smiling at her in response, Zevran turned to Leliana. "Well now, I do believe we are the victors."

"We have to help Kallian." Leliana immediately started walking towards the trapdoor leading to the basement. "You help Shianni disarm the captives and I'll—"

The trapdoor was flung open before Leliana had gone more than a few steps. A moment later, Kallian cautiously popped her head out from beneath the floor and scanned her surroundings. Once she caught sight of Leliana, the Warden's face burst into a huge smile. Kallian hoisted herself out of the trapdoor and then bent back down to help someone else up. With her assistance, a grey-haired elf climbed out to stand blinking in the bright light of the room.

As Leliana moved to join Kallian, Zevran realized that he would have to be the responsible one for a change. Walking over towards the group of soldiers, Zevran picked up one of the discarded crossbows and leveled it at the soldiers.

"Everyone on their knees." He glanced over at the Alienage elves who were standing nearby. "Would one of you be so kind as to take their weapons?"

One of the tattooed elves moved forward immediately as the Tevinter soldiers lowered themselves to the ground. Zevran kept a close eye on the prisoners in case any of them got any ideas. Shianni walked up to join him.

"Is everyone alright?"

"It certainly looks that way. Your cousin is back there helping the others."

Shianni's shoulders slumped in relief. "Is Uncle Cyrion alright?"

"I believe so, but I cannot say for certain. Kallian would be the one to ask."

"Right, I'll go see if she needs help." The red-headed elf placed a slender hand on Zevran's forearm. When he glanced down at her, she offered him a very soft smile. "Thank you, Zevran. I don't know where Kallian found you, but I'm glad she did."

With that, Shianni walked past him in order to help the newly-freed elves. Although he forced himself not to follow her progress across the room, Zevran was perturbed to realize that her words had made him feel rather warm inside.

It was an odd sensation…but not necessarily an unpleasant one.

Zevran didn't fully relax until all of the prisoners were disarmed and bound with short lengths of rope that one of the volunteers had been thoughtful enough to bring along. After distributing the crossbows amongst the elves, Zevran ordered them to keep watch on the Tevinter soldiers. Confident that the Alienage elves had things well under hand, Zevran went off to look for his confiscated weapons.

He found his crossbow and the daggers on top of one of the billets along the eastern wall. Sheathing his crossbow in its holster, Zevran also picked up Leliana's slender knife for good measure. Folding his hands behind his head, he made his way to the back of the room without any rush.

While he had been dealing with the soldiers, a considerable number of elves had evidently been freed from their prisons. A crowd of men, women, and even a few children were huddled together some ten yards away from the opening to the basement. Zevran counted at least two score, and still more were filtering up through the trapdoor. He frowned slightly as he took in the sight. The slavers had been far more ambitious than Zevran had initially expected.

Kallian and the grey-haired man that Zevran had seen earlier were standing apart from the others. They were both smiling and Zevran could see tear tracks running down the man's face. It wasn't hard to summarize that the Warden had found her missing parent. Not wanting to intrude on their reunion, Zevran veered off to the right towards where Leliana was standing next to the overturned table.

Leliana was watching Kallian and her father with an expression that seemed almost wistful. Looking up as Zevran approached, Leliana surprised him by giving him a gentle smile. "Is that my knife you have there?"

"Indeed it is," Zevran tossed her the sheathed weapon with a smirk. "I had a feeling you would be wanting it back."

The bard caught it with one hand. "Thank you. I still can't believe that worked."

"It's surprising what a man will do when you offer him the world." Zevran chuckled as he remembered the expression on Caladrius's face when Leliana had broken his arm. "Speaking of which: where is the esteemed Magister?"

Leliana smiled and pointed at the ground on the opposite side of the table. Raising an eyebrow, Zevran walked over to the table and peered over the side out of curiosity. Caladrius was sitting on the floor with his arms spread and bound to the table legs that jutted above his head. Someone had gagged the mage with a rather grimy handkerchief, but Caladrius was very much awake. Mumbling frantically when he caught sight of Zevran's face, the Magister pulled at his bonds and then cried out in obvious pain.

"That can't be good for his arm." Zevran remarked off-handedly as he turned back to Leliana. "What are we going to do with him?"

Leliana hesitated. "That's for Kallian to decide."

"But you have an opinion, I assume?"

"He should be punished for his crimes." The bard sighed and shook her head. "I can understand Kallian wanting to do that for herself, but the right thing to do is to take him into proper custody. He'll be executed for what he has done."

"After a lengthy trial and only if Alistair takes the throne."

"I don't think even Loghain could keep a known slaver from hanging. In fact, the Teyrn might try to kill him just to keep him quiet."

"That's what I would do in his position."

Leliana nodded and then glanced over at Kallian. Biting her lip, she fiddled with her hands before shooting Zevran an uncertain look. "Back at the clinic…when the two of you were threatening to torture that man...do you think Kallian would have gone through with her threat if he hadn't talked?"

Zevran studied Leliana for a moment before answering. "I honestly have no idea."

"I don't either."

The bard fell silent and stared down at the dusty floorboards with a troubled frown on her fair features. Short as it had been, Zevran realized that they had just had a civil conversation. It seemed as though today was simply full of surprises.

For the next few minutes, Zevran stared off at nothing in particular. His eyes may have occasional drifted over to find Shianni amongst the crowd, but for the most part he simply watched as the liberated elves cried and embraced one another in celebration. He would never admit it aloud, but it felt good to be a part of this.

Perhaps it was what being a hero felt like.

He broke off from his silent observation when Kallian strode over to join them. She had left her father behind and there was no trace of a smile on her face as she stared down at the bound Magister. After nodding at Zevran and Leliana, Kallian squatted down in front of Caladrius and jerked the gag free of his mouth.

The Magister started talking immediately. "Warden! I can help you! My research suggests that it is more than possible to enhance an individual's physical capabilities through the application of blood magic. If you let me live, I will do everything in my power to aid you against the Blight! You know that you will need every advantage you possibly can get!"

Kallian watched him impassively as he finally paused to draw breath. Giving no indication of what she was thinking, the Warden pursed her lips and spoke in a bored tone of voice. "You done?'

Caladrius licked his lips and gazed up at Zevran with pleading eyes. Playing along with whatever it was that Kallian was doing, Zevran raised a hand and made a big show of studying his nails. Releasing a pathetic sound, the Magister turned back to face Kallian.

"I will do anything."

Kallian rolled her eyes. "I want Loghain. You don't matter to me."

"The ledger!" Caladrius practically shouted the word in his eagerness. "It was on the table. It will give you enough to bury the Teyrn!"

Zevran glanced down at the mess of papers and baubles that had spilled all over when he had thrown the table on its side. Beside him, Leliana abruptly bent down and came up with a thin leather book in one hand. Holding it up so that the Magister could see, Leliana shook it once. "Is this what you are referring to?"

"Yes! Yes, that's it!" The Magister visibly sagged in relief. "It has a record of all of our transactions. There's even a letter from the Teyrn himself in there!"

Kallian nodded slowly. "You've been a big help."

She killed him so quickly that it took Zevran a moment to realize what she had done. Wiping her knife off on the Magister's robes, Kallian stood up and rolled her shoulders. "Alright, there are plenty of cages downstairs that we can use to lock up the rest of these bastards. It'll do until we can get Arl Eamon to do something more permanent."

Leliana stared down at the Magister for a moment before speaking up in a very soft voice. "One of the mages is still alive."

"That's a problem." Kallian frowned and then snapped her fingers. She turned a questioning look towards Zevran. "You have any Magebane?"

Zevran rubbed the back of his head in discomfort. "I do have a small amount left."

"So drug the mage and we'll get the Templers to come deal with him."

"Errm…I don't mean to be a pain, but it is a very expensive compound to produce. You used almost twenty sovereigns' worth during that business with the witch…"

Kallian shrugged. "I guess you could just keep knocking him out over and over again. I bet that's really bad for him, but I'm not going to worry too much on account of a slaver."

"Never mind, I'll just get the Magebane from your house." Zevran heaved a longsuffering sigh. "It seems like less work."

"There you go."

Leliana cleared her throat delicately. "Kallian, perhaps we should get these people home. They've been through a great deal and I am certain they are eager to see their loved ones."

"No argument there. Let's get them taken care of and then I'll properly introduce you to my father."

"I would like that."

The two women strolled off together to leave Zevran to his own devices. As he turned and made for the front door, Zevran privately wondered if he would get in trouble for "accidentally" giving the mage the wrong poison. Deathroot extract was as cheap as ale and it would certainly slow the mage down. He entertained the notion for a few seconds before abandoning it with a rueful shake of his head. There wasn't much point in having Magebane if one never intended to poison mages with it.

He started whistling to himself as he stepped out into the chilly night. For all the danger and near-misses, he had to admit that this had been the most fun he had in years.

…

xxXxx

* * *

I'd love it if you guys could leave a review telling me how the whole "con" thing worked for you personally. It was crazy fun to write, but I can't tell if it was too indulgent or nonsensical. Anyway, your thoughts would be much appreciated.

A big thank you to my beta Gorg for managing to beta this monster of a chapter in so short a time frame. I fear this might be the last Zevran chapter of Thorns, but I think it was a suitable one for him to end on.

Until next time!


	41. A Slow Dance

Chapter 41: A Slow Dance

xxXxx

…

There was something about being in a roomful of elves that made Leliana feel awkward.

For one thing, she felt clumsy and rather large in Kallian's house. The furniture was all a _bit_ too small for comfort, and the low ceiling and narrow doorways had a tendency to inspire claustrophobia. In spite of this, Leliana knew that the difference wasn't as extreme as she perceived it to be. Her discomfort stemmed from something far less tangible. There was just an indefinable sense of unfamiliarity in elven dwellings. It was as if she could feel that the house had never been intended to contain a human.

The cramped décor aside, Leliana couldn't help but feel ungainly as she watched Kallian's father flit about his small kitchen. She had attributed Kallian and Zevran's fluid grace to their training, but even Cyrion had a careless efficiency to his movements. Humans may be bigger and stronger, but elves moved through the world like dancers on a stage.

She was seated at the room's table in a low chair that loudly protested every time she shifted her weight. Kallian was sitting to her left while Shianni had taken the seat directly across from Leliana. Although there was a spare chair at the table, Zevran had left it open so that Cyrion would have a seat. Instead, the assassin was squatting on a low footstool in a way that made him look like a child intruding at the adult's table. There was a curious silence hanging between everyone. It was as though no one wanted to start talking until everyone was seated and ready to speak.

The overall mood had been subdued ever since they had returned to Cyrion's house. Part of that was due to the fact that Kallian's other cousin was still missing. According to Cyrion, Soris had never even been brought to join the other captured elves. Everyone was trying to remain optimistic, but Leliana was sure that they were all more worried than they let on. Kallian had promised to ask the Arl to check over the prisoners in Fort Drakon as soon as they got back to the estate. It was a small hope, but it seemed to be sustaining them.

In a small clatter of ceramic clinking together, Cyrion walked over to join them with a tray of ceramic cups in hand. Leliana made sure to give him her most pleasant smile. Although Kallian's father was not threatening in the least, she couldn't help but feel nervous in his presence. As they had walked back to his house in the Alienage, it had abruptly occurred to her that she had never taken this particular step with any of her previous lovers. She wanted him to think well of her, and she wasn't familiar with the proper protocol for meeting "the family".

She murmured her thanks when Cyrion placed one of the cups in front of her. Taking the mug in her hand, Leliana lifted it up eagerly. The events of the evening had left her with an empty canteen and a powerful thirst. She didn't bother to ask what she had been given, and that turned out to be a terrible mistake. Almost gagging as she swallowed a mouthful of what tasted like diluted vinegar, Leliana only just managed to avoid spewing her drink over the table. Thankfully, good manners prevailed and she was even able to twist her expression into the semblance of a smile when Cyrion looked in her direction.

"I'll have some food for you all in just a moment." Kallian's father turned back to check the cooking pot in a burst of nervous energy. His voice was shaky and rushed as he stirred the contents with a long wooden spoon. "It won't be much, I'm afraid. We're very nearly out of supplies thanks to this blighted quarantine. Still, I had a few potatoes and enough leeks to—"

Kallian cut him off gently. "I'm sure it will be great, dad. I think we are all hungry enough that you could serve us dirt and we wouldn't mind."

"Yes, of course. Just give me a moment."

"No rush."

Kallian smiled at her father's back and picked up her own mug to take a few hearty swigs. Catching sight of the horrified look that Leliana sent in her direction, the elf chuckled under her breath and leaned over to whisper softly. "You like it?"

Not wanting to risk the acuteness of elven hearing, Leliana didn't whisper back for fear of offending Cyrion. Instead, she shook her head empathically and pointed at the cup in an effort to convey her confusion.

"We mix some wine with the water." Kallian seemed amused by her disgust. "Be thankful for it. The water around here could easily be mistaken for poison. I might have grown up on the shit, but I'm pretty sure a sip of plain water from the well would be the end of us all."

Shianni giggled softly at Kallian's remark. "If you think the water is bad, wait till you try the local Alienage wine. Some of it is still has seeds."

Kallian sighed fondly. "You know, I actually missed that stuff while I was away. There's something about its gritty texture and bouquet of rat piss that really does it for me."

Hearing their lighthearted banter was reassuring. Smiling at Kallian, Leliana made a vague gesture with one hand. "If that's the case, than you should ask Oghren for some of his fungus beer. I hear that he's working on a new recipe with Wynne of all people."

"Never again." Kallian shuddered theatrically. "Even I have limits."

Their conversation ended as Cyrion returned to the table with a stack of wooden bowls and matching spoons. Handing them to Kallian, he turned back to pull the pot off the fire. After accepting the bowl that Kallian offered her, Leliana watched as Cyrion ladled a few scoops of thin soup into Shianni's dish. She thanked him politely when it was her turn, and was pleased when he smiled back in response.

"I'm sorry I don't have bread." He sat down at the empty seat and toyed with his spoon in a way that reminded Leliana of Kallian and her knives. "It isn't much, but I hope it's better than nothing."

Kallian reached over the table and took his hand in hers. "Dad, you can stop worrying. This is great."

"I'm rambling aren't I?" Cyrion took a deep breath and let it out with a smile. Gripping his daughter's hand for a moment, he started to speak and then stopped. Clearing his throat, he continued in a weary voice. "I'm sorry, Kallian. It's just that I can't express how it feels to see you now. After we received the news about the King I feared the absolute worst. It was hard enough when your mother passed…the thought of losing you as well was simply unbearable."

"I know," Kallian shifted uneasily in her chair as he trailed off. "I should have gotten a letter to you or something."

Cyrion smiled at her. "That doesn't matter now. The only thing I care about is that you are safe."

"I'm glad too." Kallian returned his smile with a crooked one of her own. "About you not being enslaved, I mean."

As she glanced between Kallian and her father, Leliana couldn't help but feel like a voyeur. It was as though she were an intruder in what should have been a private reunion. Judging from the shifty look that Zevan shot her way, she had a feeling that she wasn't alone in her opinion.

Thankfully, Cyrion seemed to be a man of few words. Gently patting his daughter's hand, Cyrion settled back in his seat and looked around the table. "Please, don't wait on my account. Dig in before it gets cold."

Glad to have something to do with her hands, Leliana lifted up the spoon and took a cautious sip. To her surprise, the potato soup was tasty in a rustic sort of fashion. Swallowing her mouthful, she turned to face Cyrion. "This is wonderful, thank you Ser Tabris."

"Please, it's just Cyrion..." Kallian's father paused and then gave Leliana an apologetic look. "Actually, while we are on the subject of names, I'm embarrassed to say that I've forgotten yours, young lady."

"With all the excitement, I can hardly blame you. My name is Leliana."

"Ah yes, that's right." Cyrion nodded at her before glancing at Zevran. "And you are…Severn?"

Zevran chuckled at that. "Very close. It's actually 'Zevran'."

"Maker above; let me apologize to the both of you. After everything you did for us tonight, the least I should be able to do is remember your names."

Leliana hurried to reassure him. "Please, we aren't offended in the least. It's completely understandable. We are just happy that we were able to help."

"Oh yes," Zevran waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. "This is one of those rare and beautiful occurrences were doing a job proved to be its reward. I think the memory of tonight will keep me smiling for many weeks to come."

Kallian looked up from her soup with a chuckle. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Even so, I wish you had not been forced to take such a risk." Cyrion gently reached out and touched Kallian's bruised cheek. "It's bad enough that they beat you. There is so much more that could have gone wrong. And all of it on our account."

"Huh?" Kallian blinked and then shook her head. "No, no, they never touched me. Zevran was the one who hit me."

Cyrion slowly turned to fix Zevran with a flat stare. The assassin in question hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of soup and gestured in Kallian's direction. "Perhaps your father could use some context for that statement. We wouldn't want him to have the wrong impression."

"Oh right. Dad, I asked him to hit me." The elf shrugged her slender shoulders when her father turned a questioning look in her direction. "I thought it would help to sell the con. Trust me: it looks a lot worse than it is."

"I see." Cyrion nodded to show that he understood, but his expression was not warm when his eyes shifted back to land on Zevran. Leliana didn't blame him for that. When she had first caught sight of Kallian's so-called "disguise", she had seriously considered giving Zevran a matching set. Kallian was playing it off, but her face looked like she had been having disagreements with several prizefighters.

For a few uncomfortable minutes, the five of them ate their soup in relative silence. There wasn't much of the soup to begin with, and it didn't take long for Leliana to finish her portion. Delicately setting her spoon aside, she tried to think of something to say to break the tension. That proved to be harder than she would have thought. Considering the recent subjects, it seemed inappropriate for her to bring up the weather or something that was similarly trivial.

Shianni saved her the trouble. Clearing her throat as she finished her own soup, the red-headed elf smiled brightly at her cousin. "So, what's it like being a Grey Warden, Kallian?"

"It's…not all that bad." Kallian shot Shianni a grateful look for breaking the silence. "We spend a good portion of our time almost dying, but it's better than being a thief. I can tell you that it isn't as glamorous as you'd think. Most of it is just walking around and sleeping on the ground."

Her father smiled at her. "It makes you happy?"

"Happy is kind of the wrong word, but I'm glad Duncan was there that day." Kallian's eyes briefly flitted over to meet Leliana's. "A lot of good has come from it."

"That's wonderful to hear. I was so sure that you had been saved from one torment only to be forced into another. Your mother had spoken to me of the Grey Wardens and I had never much cared for what I heard."

Kallian cocked her head. "She once told me that it was a good life."

"Her priorities were different than my own. Still, even if we didn't see eye-to-eye on everything, we both wanted you to be happy." His smile faded and then vanished. "You're wedding with Nelaros was my attempt to make a good life for you. Had that day gone differently, I would like to think that it would have worked."

Leliana saw a small tremor work its way along Kallian's jaw. Guessing at the other woman's thoughts, Leliana lowered her hand beneath the table and rested it on the elf's leg in a small gesture of support. Kallian didn't look over at her, but she did seem to relax. After taking a slow breath, Kallian shook her head slowly.

"Even if that day hadn't been the nightmare it was, I don't believe that things would have worked out."

Cyrion frowned. "Nelaros was a good man, Kallian. I know you had reservations about the arrangement, but it would have been as safe and comfortable a life as an elf could manage in these times."

"It's not about Nelaros. Well, at least not directly." Kallian broke away from his gaze and shot a significant glance over at Shianni. "Look Dad, there's something we should talk about. A lot of things actually, but one in particular."

"Of course, what is it?"

Before Kallian could elaborate, Shianni stood up from the table hastily. Gesturing at the door, she smiled a very broad smile. "I'm sorry everybody, but I just can't sit still right now. I think I'm a bit worked up with nerves from all the excitement. I'm going to go take a walk…care to join me, Zevran?"

The assassin glanced between his soup and Kallian's cousin. After waging what looked to be a brief war of indecision, he stood up from his stool and offered Shianni his arm. "I would be a fool to refuse such an offer even if it came from a lady half as lovely as yourself."

"Please," Shianni rolled her eyes as she linked arms with Zevran. "Does that load of garbage actually work for you?"

Zevran adopted an air of injured dignity as he opened the door for them. "Many of my romantic interests have told me that I am very charming. It's usually after I've paid them, but the point remains."

Shianni laughed aloud as she stepped through the doorway and out into the night. Smiling as she watched the two elves leave, Leliana turned back to find Kallian and her father staring after Shianni with nearly identical looks of disapproval. Composing her own expression before the two of them could notice her amusement, Leliana waited for someone else to speak.

"You're cousin has never been very subtle, has she?" Cyrion remarked after a moment's pause. He gave Leliana a curious look that seemed to ask why she had stayed before turning back to his daughter. "Well, I would imagine that was for our benefit. I suppose now is as good a time as any for a conversation."

Kallian coughed in a rough sort of way. "It's a bit awkward."

"You know that you can talk with me about anything. As you recall, I didn't lose my temper when you told me about the work you were doing for that Couldry fellow."

"Huh? You told me I couldn't leave the Alienage for a month!"

Cyrion nodded mildly. "Yes, but I did so in a very calm manner."

"Whatever, this is different. At least, I'm pretty sure it's different." Kallian drew herself up in her seat and held out her hands in front of her as if she were holding a box. "Well…um…I'm not entirely where to begin with this….Okay: so do you remember when you sat me down to have that conversation about boys?"

"Was that the time I caught you fooling around with that lad from the mill?"

"I _told_ you," Kallian ground out from between clenched teeth. "We weren't fooling around! It actually was just a wrestling match. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that whether you knew it or not, there wasn't any chance I'd ever fool around…with boys."

Cyrion nodded in agreement. "I trusted you, Kallian. The only reason I was concerned is that I know how teenagers are at that age. Good sense is sometimes forgotten in the face of hormones."

"Right," Kallian pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "I think you missed the point I was trying to make. Look, what would you say if I were interested in someone that isn't really like the men you were looking at for my marriage?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on who you chose and what he's like. I selected those men for you because they would have offered you a good life in the Alienage." Cyrion clasped his hands together on top of the table's surface. "Now that marriage is no longer an option, I hope that you can find a suitable man that will make you happy. So long as he is able to do that, I'd accept your choice. Unless it's that Zevran fellow; he seems like trouble."

"And what if I wasn't interested in men at all?"

"That's fine too. With the Blight on the way, I wouldn't think you'd have much time for romance."

Kallian heaved a sigh and shot Leliana a pleading look. If she hadn't known that this was so important to the elf, Leliana might have found this situation funny. As it was, Leliana decided that her lover might need some help making the plunge. Kallian was trying to be subtle at a time when a more direct approach was required.

Rather than say anything, she simply extended her arm and rested it on the table with her palm held up in offering. It was a meaningful gesture and one that was thankfully not lost upon Kallian. After only a moment's hesitation, the elf reached over and grasped Leliana's hand in her own. Taking a deep breath, Kallian turned back to her father and blurted out a single statement.

"Dad, Leliana and I are involved."

"Involved in what?"

Kallian closed her eyes in exasperation. "Each other."

"I'm afraid I don't—" Cyrion broke off as he glanced down at their clasped hands before slowing shifting his gaze to his daughter's face. Blinking furiously, he laid his hands out flat on the tabletop as if to brace himself. "O-Oh…you mean as in…oh, I see."

"Yeah, like that."

For several long moments, her father simply stared at her in stunned silence. Leliana kept her eyes on the tabletop in an effort to avoid making thing anymore uncomfortable then they already were. As the seconds ticked by, Kallian's grip on her hand tightened to a painful degree. Finally, after opening and closing his mouth in a collage of unvoiced words, Cyrion finally managed to form a coherent question. "…and, uh, has that _always_ been the case?"

"I mean, I've only known Leliana for several months." The corners of Kallian's mouth twitched up into a nervous smile. "But if you're asking in a more general sense…then yeah, it's always been the case."

"Well," Cyrion drew in a deep breath through his teeth. "I suppose this explains why you never showed much enthusiasm for any of the young men I suggested. It always seemed like more than the usual resistance to an arranged marriage. To be quite honest, I had just assumed that you inherited your mother's incredibly high standards."

Leliana smiled as Kallian's grip loosened considerably. The note of wry humor in her father's voice seemed to reassure the elf considerably. Brushing the pad of her thumb along the back of Kallian's palm, Leliana leaned in to address Cyrion. "I understand that my presence here may be awkward. If you would like to speak to your daughter in private, I would understand completely."

"Thank you, but I have no issue with you staying." He gave her an odd, searching look as if trying to figure out some sort of secret. Clearing his throat, Cyrion shook himself. "It almost feels like I should reintroduce myself. Meeting you as Kallian's friend was one thing, meeting you as her…person of interest is another."

"In that case, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ser Tabris. I am Leliana."

"I remembered it this time. It's good to meet you as well, Leliana. And please, it's just Cyrion."

Leliana smiled easily. "You've raised a wonderful daughter, Cyrion."

"Haven't I? It may not have always been easy, but I'm continuously amazed by the results." He turned a warm smile in his daughter's direction. "She has a little of her mother's wildness, but I like to think that I smoothed over some of the rougher edges."

Kallian gave him a shy look. "So are you're…okay with this?"

"It's something of a shock, I'll admit. When you're a parent, you form a picture of what you're child's life will one day look like. When you realize that may not be the reality, it can be hard." Cyrion chuckled ruefully. "Luckily, I ran into that complication when you told me you were a pickpocket…and then again when you became a Grey Warden. Compared to those revelations, this one is actually rather pleasant."

"Oh…well, alright then." Kallian ducked her head in a sheepish fashion before shooting a grin in Leliana's direction. "I kinda wish I had told you sooner now."

"Why didn't you?

"I dunno," She withdrew her hand from Leliana's. Toying with her fingers in a nervous jumble, she shrugged her slender shoulders. "You were always talking about my marriage and all. I guess I didn't want to disappoint you."

Cyrion's mouth thinned into a frown that carried a soft rebuke. "Kallian, I did not make those arrangements for myself. I made them so that you would be safe and happy once I was gone. Had I know that your interests led in a different direction, I would have supported you in any way I could. It would have probably been a bit trickier to find you a wife, but then again, you've never done things the easy way. You and your mother: the two most difficult women on the planet and I ended up loving both of them."

"Dad, I…" Kallian cleared her throat roughly. Smiling against the tears that were beading at the corners of her eyes, the elf nodded a few times before reaching over and patting her father's hand. "I love you, too."

Leliana couldn't help but smile. Her chest felt tight as she watched Cyrion and Kallian share this simple moment that meant everything. It made her thoughts stray back to distant memories of the woman she barely remembered as her mother. She did not have any concrete recollections, just vague flashes of gathering flowers in a sunny field and a soft voice murmuring some forgotten lullaby. She remembered the auburn curtain of mother's hair and could almost bring the smell of her perfume to mind.

In turn, those remnants of her childhood made her think back to the conversation she had shared with Kallian at the Circle Tower. Leliana wondered what her life would look like if her mother had not passed away. If she had been able to turn to someone like Cyrion, she doubted that she would have approached Marjolaine at that party all those years ago. Her path through life had been born of absence. Leliana had gone looking for acceptance, and that desire had only led her further from it.

Kallian was luckier than she realized. Growing up poor may have been hard, but growing up loved was a true gift.

She was jolted from her bittersweet reverie when Cyrion suddenly addressed her. His voice had shifted from the soft, personal tone he had been using to something bright and congenial. "So then, seeing as you're courting my daughter, I suppose I should know something about you. Let's see: what do you do? Are you a Warden as well?"

"No, I am not." Leliana felt her shoulders tense up as if Cyrion was a professional interrogator instead of Kallian's father. "I spent some time working for the Orlesian government before circumstances required me to leave the country. After that, I entered the Chantry as an Initiate before meeting your daughter."

Cyrion raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise. "You are a woman of the cloth?"

"I don't want to mislead you. I never took my vows and I believe that the Lothering Chantry has been destroyed due to the advance of the Blight. To say that I'm a member of the clergy would be inaccurate."

"Still, I have to say that I'm somewhat surprised." Cyrion eyes slid over to meet Kallian's. "Given the trouble my daughter used to cause whenever she went to services, I'm amazed that the two of you even get along."

Kallian opened her mouth in outrage. "That wasn't my fault! Sister Abitha was always riding me about everything! If she hadn't been such a bitch, I'd probably—"

"Kallian, language!" Her father interrupted her with a severe frown. "You know how I feel about swearing."

To Leliana's poorly-concealed amusement, Kallian flushed at the reprimand. Shooting an embarrassed look in Leliana's direction, she mumbled an apology. "M'sorry."

"I've heard that before." Cyrion rolled his eyes at his daughter's insincere tone before turning a smile in Leliana's direction. "Now you have me curious, how does an Orlesian lay-sister end up traveling with the Grey Wardens? It seems like an odd career choice."

Leliana laughed a touch too generously at the wry observation. "My time with the Orlesian government left me with some skills that were…better-suited to opposing the Blight than serving the Maker. I met Kallian in a tavern and realized that my duty was to help her."

She left out the part about receiving a vision from the Maker. Although she was not embarrassed of her beliefs, she was aware of how it might sound to a stranger's ears. There were plenty of details about her life that she was omitting for the sake of propriety. Cyrion didn't need to know she was a bard, and he probably didn't need to know that she had first seen Kallian's face in a dream.

"That's a rather mysterious answer." He glanced between Kallian and Leliana with a knowing expression. "I imagine it is also one that you won't care to elaborate on. That's fine, I suppose. I suspect that there is a great deal the two of you can't tell me about the work you are doing."

Kallian nodded in agreement. "Things are tense right now. I'm not sure what's supposed to be a secret and what's not, so I'm guessing I should not say anything at all."

"Now that doesn't sound like the daughter I remember. It almost sounded prudent. You really have changed, haven't you?" He smiled to indicate that he was teasing before tilting his head to study her. "I thought I was imagining it at first, but you are very different now. I still thought of you as my little girl when you left. Yet, when I saw you tonight, my first thought was that you had become all grown up. Actually, you looked just like—"

"Mom?" Kallian finished for him with a small smirk. "C'mon Dad, you've always said I looked like mom."

"I suppose I have." Cyrion stroked one thin finger along his jaw as he contemplated his daughter. "But this was different somehow. I can't really explain it any further. In any case, I can't remember ever being more proud to have you as my daughter than I was when you opened that cage. It seems your mother was right. This really is the life you were meant to have. It might not my first choice, but perhaps it is the right one."

"It's definitely more exciting."

"And here I thought it was all walking and sleeping on the ground." He smiled at her. "I don't suppose you have any war stories to regale me with?"

"Well, a few weeks ago we killed a dragon."

Cyrion blinked at her as if unsure of whether or not she was joking. "A dragon?"

"Yeah, it was crazy. Zevran nearly got his head torn off. He got pretty lucky and only ended up losing an eye." Kallian seemed unaware of the effect her words were having on her father. "I can't tell you how scared I was when the damned thing landed in front of us. I would have brought you a scale or something, but we were kind of in a rush after we killed it."

"Err…yes, that's perfectly understandable, dear."

Kallian nodded enthusiastically. "There was also this blood mage that went crazy in the mage's tower. He turned into this big demon-type thing and Morrigan ended setting him on fire."

"Morrigan?"

"She's a witch we met outside of Ostagar. I like her, but she's kind of hard to deal with. Oh, and her mother was actually Flemeth! As in, _the _Flemeth!" Kallian paused for a moment and then coughed. "Who I ended up killing."

For the second time this evening, Cyrion seemed at a loss for words. Tearing his eyes away from his daughter, he shot Leliana a distressed look as if hoping that she'd laugh and tell him that Kallian was joking. Doing her best to reassure him with a smile, she shrugged helplessly. "Every day is an adventure."

"I'm getting that impression." He settled back in his chair with a sigh. "On the bright side, if all of that didn't kill you, I suppose the Blight will pose little threat."

"We can only hope."

Kallian perked up abruptly. "Oh damn, I almost forgot!"

Cyrion adopted a wary expression that was comically exaggerated. Winking at Leliana, he spoke up in mock horror. "There's more?"

"Do you remember when I wanted to get a cat but you said we couldn't afford it?"

"Yes?"

"Well, wait till you meet my dog!"

…

xxXxx

…

Several hours later, Leliana sat in her room in the Arl's estate and focused on working the kinks out of her hair. She hadn't cut it since leaving Lothering, and it had grown to the point where it was brushing against her shoulder blades. Maintaining had become something of chore lately, but she wasn't quite ready to change it. After styling her hair in accordance with the Chantry's standards for so long, she relished the opportunity to define herself in a manner of her choosing.

Besides, Kallian had mentioned that her hair looked nice when it was long.

The thought made her smile slightly as she ran a borrowed comb through her red locks. She was pleased with how the meeting with Cyrion had transpired. In point of fact, she was pleased with how everything about their excursion into the Alienage had played out. Not only had they freed Kallian's family, but they now had evidence and a whole warehouse full of captured Tevinter soldiers to use against Loghain. When they had delivered their report to Arl Eamon, the noble had looked like a child on Feastday.

As they had left the Alienage, Cyrion had encouraged them to spend the night, but Kallian had regretfully turned the offer down. Although she had said it was because she wanted to get the quarantine lifted as soon as possible, Leliana suspected that Kallian had other motives for not staying. Soon after they had revealed their relationship to Cyrion, Leliana had left the house to give Kallian and her father some privacy. She wasn't sure what they discussed, but a full hour passed before the two of them had emerged from the house.

By that time, Leliana, along with Shianni and Zevran, was chilled to the very bone from standing around outside. Everyone had made their goodbyes and it had come as a relief when Kallian had set a fast pace on the way back to the estate. The guards at the Alienage's gate were surprised to see them at a late hour, but they had mercifully allowed the three of them to pass without incident. When everything had been said and done, they had arrived at the estate at about ten o'clock.

Their report to the Arl had been brief, and as far as Leliana was concerned, the night was still young. The events of the day had left her energized and she planned on stopping by Kallian's room in order to touch base with the elf. It was a perfectly innocent reason for a visit, but if Kallian felt like touching upon other things, Leliana felt as though she should at least be prepared.

With that in mind, she stood up from her seat and moved to open her armoire. Selecting an uncomplicated button-down blouse, she matched it a pair of pants that were cut in the loose, billowing style of Antiva. The clothes did not belong to her. On her first day in Denerim, she had asked one of the servants for something to wear to sleep. That same evening, she had entered her room to find an entire wardrobe carefully folded on her bed. It was then that she had realized two things about Arl Eamon: he didn't do things in half-measures and he had phenomenal taste.

Pleased with how the comfortable clothing both looked and felt, Leliana wandered back over to her mirror and plucked her fragrance off of the vanity. She dabbed a bit of the perfume on her wrists and neck before inhaling deeply. The soft scent of jasmine and violets made her breath out in relaxed satisfaction. She had purchased the bottle from a passing tradesman back in Lothering, and she had very nearly run out. It was a pointless luxury in times like these, but she took her pleasures where she could find them.

A quick look in the mirror told Leliana all that she needed to know. Kallian wouldn't stand a chance when the time came.

As she slipped the key to her room in her pocket, Leliana began to hum the first few bars of "Ode to the Young Adelaide" under her breath. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she found herself in a truly good mood. Even her guilt and uncertainty over Marjolaine's death had faded to the back of her mind. Already thinking of what she'd say when she got to Kallian's room, she strode over to door and opened it wide…

…and just barely managed to hold in her scream of fright.

Alistair stood in the dead center of her doorway like a deer that had just sighted a hunter. Biting his lip when Leliana gasped and stumbled back, he held out his hand in an aborted gesture of apology. "Errm…hello…and sorry."

"Alistair!" Leliana brought up a hand to cover her racing heart and took a few deep breathes to calm herself. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Well, I was going to come talk to you about something that's a bit personal," Alistair chuckled nervously and offered her a shrug. "And then I kinda lost my nerve when I tried to knock. I kept thinking I should just leave and try again later, but then it occurred to me that would be cowardly and not the type of thing a king would do. So, I just sort of stood out here and waited…for this exact moment, apparently."

Leliana raised a brow. "Very kingly of you."

"I was born to rule." He gave her a self-deprecating grin that was enough to make her forgive him for the fright. "Now that I've made this as uncomfortable as possible, do you think you have a minute?"

"Well, I was heading over to see Kallian, but I suppose I could put that off for a moment. Do you mind walking as we talk?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, no, that would be fine. And thank you."

After he had stepped back, Leliana exited her room and locked the door behind her. Nodding at Alistair as she fell into step beside him, the two of them began to slowly walk down the hall. "Alright, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"It's sorta awkward to explain." He made an uncomfortable sound before waving his hands in front of himself. "Look, you're a girl, right?"

"That's always a promising beginning to a conversation."

"Right, sorry again." Alistair inhaled a deep breath and smiled sidelong at her. "Ok, so suppose there is this person that I'm interested in, but she's not really…conventional. And suppose we kinda started our relationship off pretty fast. I mean, imagine a relationship progressing as fast as humanly possible, and you have a pretty good idea of where we would hypothetically be at."

"So this is about Morrigan."

"Damn it Kallian," Alistair muttered something under his breath before sighing in resignation. "I guess I should have expected she would tell you. Well, at least now we can get through this without me using the word 'hypothetically' every other sentence."

Leliana grinned in response. "It would get very tiresome. In the interest of time, it might be best if you just tell me what's on your mind."

"That might be my only option now that you've seen through my cunning charade." Alistair commented wryly before adopting a more serious tone. "Okay, so it sounds like Kallian has already told you this, but last night Morrigan and I slept together. It was a really sudden thing, and I wasn't even sure if it would happen again."

"I see."

"Except it kind of happened again; this evening as a matter of fact." Alistair looked a little uncomfortable about this admission. Aware that this was hard for him, she kept a pleasant, neutral expression on her face in the hopes of setting him at ease. "She has a real talent for just appearing randomly and springing it on me. Not that I'm complaining, really."

"So what is the problem?"

He shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. I mean, there has to be hundreds of guys who would literally kill to be in my position. It's just that I can't help but think that it's a little odd that we can do…_that_ even though we've barely spoken to one another since she came out and told me that she was interested. I did try to talk with her this evening, but she stared at me like I was diseased. Next thing I know, she's dressed and gone in like, literally two seconds."

"Ah."

"I'm not really certain what that means." He chuckled nervously. "This might come as a terrible shock, but I don't have much experience when it comes to this type of thing. Isn't it normal for people to talk and whatnot when they are sleeping together?"

Leliana nodded gently. "It's normal, but some people are better at it than others. Take Kallian for example. Wrestling a conversation out of her can be exhausting. It's hard to get her to open up at all, and even then a single sentence can be enough to shut her down all over again. I swear; it took me weeks to figure out what her favorite color is."

"So what do you do about it?"

"It took some trial and error, but I eventually found that it worked best if I didn't force the issue. Instead of asking her about something personal, I'd just talk about whatever came to mind. After she relaxed a little, she'd end up making some reference to her past and I'd press her about it gently. She got better as we built up a little trust, but for a while that was the only way I could get her to drop her guard."

Alistair rubbed at his chin. "Ok, and what would you have done if she hadn't wanted to talk at all?"

"I would have probably given up. The Maker knows it was irritating enough as it was." Leliana hurried onwards when she saw the crestfallen expression on Alistair's face. "But Kallian isn't Morrigan. I think your problem is that you haven't given much thought for why Morrigan is so distant."

"Err…I'm not much of a thinker."

"Don't sell yourself short all the time, Alistair. It's only endearing under the right circumstances." Leliana smiled to take the sting out of her words. "Seriously though, why do you think Morrigan would be hostile towards the idea of actually forming a relationship?"

He snorted a laugh. "I don't know, probably because swamp witches don't have many dating opportunities."

"Precisely."

"Ha, I'm sure…"Alistair paused in midsentence as he caught sight of Leliana's expression. "Wait, you're being serious?"

"Of course I am." She lightly prodded him in the side with her elbow. "Consider how your interactions together might look like from her perspective. I think that relationships are something that she doesn't understand, and if there is anything Morrigan truly hates…"

"…It's not understanding something. She might be afraid of doing something wrong and looking foolish." Alistair looked like he was ready to smack himself. "Damn, I didn't even consider that. I mean, I was sort of thinking that she was the experienced one in all of this."

Leliana nodded in agreement. "Kallian said that she was the one who approached you. Perhaps she's waiting for some sign that you desire something more than a casual acquaintance. I believe it would literally kill her to ask if you cared, but that doesn't mean that she does not want to know."

"Ok, what should I do?"

"That's really something you should decide for yourself."

"Leliana, I'm not selling myself short when I say that I honestly am floundering over here. If you don't help me out, I'll end up writing her a sonnet or something."

"Oh, a love sonnet is a wonderful idea!" Leliana turned her head to fix him with a broad smile. Teasing Alistair may have been cruel, but some opportunities could not be wasted. "We could enlist Zevran's help. I'm sure he's written his fair share."

Alistair stopped in the hallway and folded his arms. "While I can appreciate how comically horrifying that scenario would be, I am completely serious right now. If there is anything you can do to help me out here, I would really appreciate it."

Leliana cocked a brow. "I'll help you this one time as long as you promise that you'll take it from here. Courting Morrigan should be your responsibility, not mine."

"I promise." He held up his hand as if reciting an oath. "I want this to work out; I'm just not sure where to begin."

Thinking for a moment, Leliana snapped her fingers as inspiration struck. "Alright, here's what you should do: go and find a copy of Aldun Bartrow's _Fables and Fanciful Tales_. It's a common book and if the Arl doesn't have it in his library, then I'm certain the local book vendor will have several. Give it to Morrigan, but be sure to read the story of the White Stag before you do. If she asks why you're giving it to her, just say something about how Kallian mentioned you liked the story at some point."

Alistair looked skeptical. "You really think a book of fairytales will help?"

"You asked me, remember?" She shrugged off his disbelief. "If that does not suit you, then I would suggest working on your poetry."

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean to sound negative. I'll give that a try. What do I say to her after I give it to her?"

"That is something I won't help you with." Leliana mentally rolled her eyes before giving him an exasperated smile. "Alistair, if you care for Morrigan, then I'm sure you can think of something. Just remember to treat her like you would any other person and you'll be fine."

He nodded sheepishly. "I'm acting a bit like a child, aren't I? This is all new to me, and it's making me feel like an awkward teenager all over again."

"Relax and do what comes naturally. You're very charming, and that goes double when you aren't trying to be."

"That's mostly reassuring." He smiled and unfolding his arms from across his chest. "I really do appreciate the advice. I wasn't sure who else to turn to, and I had a feeling that you'd set me straight. It's silly, but I'm more nervous about talking to Morrigan than I am about the Blight."

Leliana laughed at that. "Well, of course you are. The Darkspawn might kill you, but they would never think to embarrass you."

"It really puts things into perspective." Alistair joined her in a short laugh before lightly clapping her on the shoulder. "Seriously, thank you for the help, Leliana."

"I hope it goes well. Good night, Alistair."

"Night," He started to walk away, but stopped almost immediately. Striking his palm against his forehead, he turned back to face her fully. "Oh! Could you do me a favor when you see Kallian? Let her know that the Arl's attendant checked the report we received from the Chantry and found something promising. One of the prisoners that the Templar's pulled out of Howe's dungeon was a male elf. It's no guarantee, but I'd bet that's her cousin."

"That's wonderful!" Leliana smiled at the good news. "She'll be so relieved to hear that! If you see the Arl tonight, please convey our thanks."

"I'll do that."

With a final nod, Alistair turned away and began walking back down the hallway in the direction they had come from. Leliana had a feeling that he was headed for the Arl's library. Shaking her head as she replayed their odd conversation in her mind, she made off towards Kallian's room once more.

As she came to the elf's door, Leliana took a moment to straighten her blouse before lifting a hand to knock against the wood. Rather than make Kallian guess, she called out loud enough to announce herself. "It's me."

There was scuffling sound from inside the room followed by the soft padding of bare feet over carpet. A moment later, the door opened and Kallian peered out at her with a smile. "Hey."

It looked as though Kallian had recently taken a bath. Her face was still flushed from the heat, and her damp hair was hanging around her head in a tangle of gleaming strands. The elf was wearing a long bathrobe that was fixed tightly against her body by virtue of its thick belt. Mercifully, the bruises that had discolored Kallian's tawny skin were now entirely absent. Leliana imagined that she had Wynne to thank for the rapid recovery.

"Hey, yourself," Leliana tilted her head to one side. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Kallian stepped back and held the door open. "I could probably live with that."

"Your warm hospitality does you tremendous credit." Leliana moved through the door and paused as she passed by the elf. Lifting a finger to stroke along the curve of Kallian's unblemished jaw, she raised an eyebrow. "I take it that you've seen Wynne this evening."

"I was going to let it wait until morning, but she stopped by unexpectedly. I got a five-minute lecture about how it was hard enough to keep everyone healthy without us asking to be hurt." Kallian smirked as she closed the door behind the two of them. Moving across the room to take a seat in front of her writing desk, she turned her smile on Leliana. "Still, the lecture was a small price to pay for her help. Zevran hits pretty damn hard."

"All the more reason you shouldn't have asked him to hit you."

"Eh, that was another small price to pay. Everything worked out, didn't it?" She gestured down at herself. "Besides, between Wynne's healing and a good bath, you can't even tell I was ever in disguise."

Shaking her head at that, Leliana cast a significant look at Kallian's robe. "How many baths do you take, exactly?"

"You spend eighteen years cleaning yourself out of a bucket of rain water and then try to tell me that a hot bath isn't the greatest thing in Thedas. So long as we are living in a sodding palace, I'm going to take advantage of the opportunity."

Leliana grinned. "As far as habits go, I suppose there are worse ones to have. Incidentally, why did Wynne stop by?"

"She had a bunch of stuff to tell me. Most of it was bad, but not all of it." Kallian's expression twisted into a mild grimace as she flapped her hand at a pile of papers on her desk. "And she wanted to drop off this load of disappointing nonsense."

Interested, Leliana walked around to stand behind Kallian's chair. Leaning over the elf's shoulder, she stared at what looked like the pages of a book. "What is it?"

"The first twenty pages of that book the Sentinel gave me up on Dragonshit Mountain. Wynne's been translating it for me and this is what she's been able to do so far."

"Did you learn anything about your condition?"

Kallian glared at the page in front of her as if it had caused offense. "No, it's just names."

"Names?"

"Yeah, like: 'Berolf, son of Aethelweard, son of Breton, son of Gregoire the Arrogant Sodding Asshole'. And that goes on for forever." Kallian's shoulders slumped forward. "If it isn't names, it's just a bunch of people boasting about how great they are. No one even mentions the Dalish until the fifteenth page."

Leliana nodded in understanding. "Genealogies…they're meant to lend credibility and context to what follows."

"Yeah, they're super helpful."

"I'm sorry, Kallian." Leliana brought her hands up to gently massage the elf's shoulders. "I know that you were hoping for answers. All that matters right now is that you don't lose faith. This is a setback, not a death sentence."

Kallian surprised her by laughing in response. "Well, it isn't all bad news. Wynne said that she's found a section that looks like the instructions for a magical ritual. She hasn't finished translating it, but she's said it looks promising."

Leliana paused in her motions. "A cure?"

"She said it would be more like something to build on." Kallian shrugged to apparently indicate her own confusion. "I got lost pretty much as soon as she started talking, but the jist of it was that there is some kind of balance in magic. She said if you could do something with magic, then there is always a way to undo it. It was something about "equal and opposite reactions" or something to the effect."

Leliana shook Kallian's shoulder in excitement. "Kallian, that's the best news we've had in months! Aren't you excited?"

"I am, really." Kallian brought up her right hand to cover Leliana's. "I'm just kinda drained from everything that happened today. I don't think it's fully sunk in yet."

She did sound a bit tired, but Leliana wondered if it was something more. Thinking back to the private conversation that Kallian had with her father after Leliana had left, she tried to imagine what it might be. Eventually, she just decided to ask. "Is something else bothering you?"

"I dunno," Kallian settled back into the chair with a pensive sound. "I mean, Wynne had some bad news about that Warden that Alistair saved, but I don't really know the guy. It's a shame and everything, but it's not eating away at me."

"The Warden?" Leliana frowned as she thought back to the bloody man that Sten had carried in a few days back. "The one you all think is Orlesian?"

"Yeah, Wynne says he's not going to make it. He's got some type of infection that she can't cure. Poor bastard probably won't even wake up before he goes. It's a shame; we could have really used him against Loghain at the Landsmeet."

"That's a tragedy. It's just one more death that Loghain will have to account for."

"I'll definitely enjoy watching him account for all of it." Kallian's tone turned grim. "But like I said, I don't think that's it. Really, I'm just kind of wary now that everything seems to be going well. I'm not used to all these good things happening, and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop or whatever."

Leliana leaned forward a bit and wrapped her arms around Kallian's neck in a loose embrace. "Then let me be the one to drop it: Alistair thinks that we found Soris."

"Seriously?" Kallian twisted out of Leliana's embrace and stood up from her seat. Smiling broadly, the elf stepped around the chair to stand in front of Leliana. "Where was he? Do you know if he's alright?"

"Before you get too excited, I should tell you that nothing is certain yet." Leliana reached over and took Kallian's hands in her own. "All the Arl knows is that one of Howe's prisoners was a male elf. Still, considering the quarantine, it's a safe bet that Soris is that prisoner."

Kallian took a deep breath and released it with a smile. "It's a better chance than I was expecting. I'll check the Chantry tomorrow and see if it's him."

"See?" Leliana smiled back at her. "Sometimes, good things just happen. We've had enough bad luck to last a lifetime. Perhaps this is karma balancing the scales."

"Heh, maybe you're right."

They stood there for a moment as the conversation reached an awkward pause. Leliana was about to cast about for some new topic of discussion, but she was distracted when she idly noticed that Kallian's robe was clinging very tightly to the elf's slender frame. Her glance downwards was involuntary and entirely unavoidable. Dragging her eyes back up when Kallian cleared her throat softly, Leliana felt herself flush as she realized that Kallian had noticed the shift in her attention.

"Something on your mind?"

Leliana smiled in the most demure fashion she could manage. "I am certain that I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Huh, I suppose I just thought that there might have been a reason you came here looking so nice and smelling like…" Kallian trailed off long enough to sniff at the air curiously. "…really nice flowers. But, I guess I must have been mistaken."

"Perhaps not entirely." Leliana released Kallian's hands and caught hold of the belt of her robe instead. Gently tugging the elf closer, she let her voice drop into a sultry tone of promise. "Although I would never be so crude as to say it aloud, I may have had something planned for this evening."

"And what would that be?"

Leliana grinned at the elf before untying the belt of her robe with a swift flick of her fingers. "It's better if I just show you."

With that, Leliana reached up and grabbed hold of the front of Kallian's robe. Jerking the elf up against her, she brought her mouth crashing down to capture the shorter woman with a hungry kiss. It had been too long since their last romantic evening, and Leliana's body was already thrumming with coils of anticipation.

Kallian was quick in her response. Wrapping one arm around Leliana's middle for balance, the elf brought up the other to tangle in her hair. They didn't waste any time with gentle pecks or slow caresses. It wasn't more than a handful of seconds before Kallian's tongue was pressed against her lips in a demand for access. Deeping the kiss gladly, Leliana tilted her head to find a more natural position. She loosened her grip on Kallian's collar long enough to push the fabric of the robe open. Her hand snaked inside to brush across a flat expanse of warm skin before dropped down to cup the curve of Kallian's hip.

As they broke away, Kallian caught Leliana's lower lip between her teeth in a gentle bite. Surprised by the sharp sensation, Leliana mewled softly as a warm flush bled down the length of her spine. She tried to immediately reclaim the elf's lips, but Kallian jerked her head back with a playful smirk. Tugging at the collar of Leliana's blouse, she cleared her throat.

"This doesn't need to be here."

Dropping her arms to her side, Leliana cocked her hip and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Do something about it."

…

xxXxx

If that ending seemed abrupt, it's because I removed a lemon in compliance with the new content codes. I'll get around to adding a different ending sometime in the near future. It's not really a bad thing imo, because that lemon was freaky weird.


	42. Fabulous

**A/N: **Well, I totally missed that deadline, lol. The reason this time was that I rewrote this entire chapter after deciding that the first try was rather shitty. This is a bit of a transition chapter, but I tweaked it around to hopefully make it a little more interesting. In any case, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 42: Fabulous

-Arl Eamon's Estate-

* * *

xxXxx

...

"Uh…well, I'm glad to see that you could all make it."

Alistair folded his arms across his chest and mentally cursed himself for sounding so nervous. There was reason for him to be this uncomfortable. In a private meeting composed entirely of his friends and allies, he really should be able to articulate himself like an adult.

Telling himself that negative thoughts weren't helping, he forced a smile as he looked around the room. They had gathered in Eamon's private study in order to eliminate the possibility of being overheard. His companions were seated in a bastardized semi-circle with the Arl's desk located in the middle. Alistair had elected to remain standing next to the desk, and now he wished that he had taken a seat. As it was, he felt like the center of attention.

Wynne offered him an encouraging nod from where she sat on a long couch in between Oghren and Zevran. Of the entire group, she was the one he had spoken with the most in regards to the topic at hand. He took some encouragement from the fact that she was here to steer him on course in case he started babbling. "Alright, so let's talk about how we are going to usurp the throne."

Arl Eamon sighed deeply and shifted in his seat behind the desk. "As I have said previously, we will be proceeding in a legitimate, entirely legal manner. The term 'usurpation' is both inaccurate and unhelpful."

"Right, you said the same thing about me referring to it as a 'coup'." Alistair shrugged and waved his hand through the air. "Whatever we call it, I think the important thing is that we all know what to expect when the Landsmeet convenes. There's a whole lot that could go wrong and we need to be prepared for anything."

Sten raised his head at that. The giant qunari had disdained the available chairs in favor of standing in the center of the room like some type of permanently grumpy statue. "You expect violence?"

"I hope that it won't come to that, but I think we'd be foolish not to be ready for a fight."

"Would Loghain really try to attack us in the middle of the Landsmeet?" Leliana's purring voice sounded from off to his right near the room's bay window. She was sharing a loveseat with Kallian and had her arm loosely draped over the elf's shoulders. "Perhaps I do not understand, but wouldn't that be an incredibly poor decision? The Arls will surely take a dim view to violence in their seat of power."

Eamon answered her before Alistair could. "They would consider it to be a terrible transgression. He would be overstepping his authority and effectively challenging that balance of power in our government. That said, what would Loghain have to lose in such a scenario? He knows that if we take the throne we will order his execution. That will make him ruthless if it appears that we might win."

"Surely there will be guards to prevent such things from occurring?"

The Arl smiled humorlessly. "There will be a small contingent of soldiers charged with maintaining the peace. Tradition demands that the king's personal guard have this honor."

"That's…rather unfortunate."

Alistair nodded in agreement. "So, that's why we need to be ready. If Loghain decides to go down fighting, we're going to be trapped in a roomful of soldiers who are essentially loyal to him. Luckily, we've got a pretty sizeable advantage in that we have mages on our side. We'll be able to strike out a lot harder with a few spells on our side."

Kallian frowned at him. "Wait, Loghain has to have a few mages."

"Not since the incident at the Circle." Wynne turned her head to face the elf. "First Enchanter Irving is still very displeased with Loghain's response to the entire situation. He believes that Loghain was too quick to enact the Writ of Annulment. As a result, the Circle's presence in Loghain's staff has been entirely withdrawn. Only our liaison remains in government and he is bound by neutrality."

Alistair leaned back against the edge of the desk. "That places us in a position to capitalize if things go south. I've thought about it, and I decided how we will do this. Zevran, Sten, Oghren: I want the three of you protecting Wynne and Morrigan until they can work their magic. Leliana, I want you to try to take Loghain out right at the start. If he goes down with an arrow in his face, I doubt the guards will keep on fighting. Kallian and I will just do our best to draw attention until the spells are cast."

Morrigan spoke up from her seat near the back of the room. "What of Templars? Our magic will be of little use if we are being opposed by mage hunters."

"There will be no Templars in the Royal Palace." Eamon answered her with perfect certainty. "The Chantry is barred from bringing its soldiers into government proceedings. After the Orlesian occupation, it was decided that there needed to be a separation of secular and spiritual authority. Most of you are too young to recall, but the Chantry imposed very…_unforgiving_ regulations while the Chevaliers were in power. The Grand Cleric's opinion is respected, but the Chantry has no official say in our decisions."

Wynne cleared her throat. "I should make it clear that I have little talent for primal magic. There is not much I can do to directly harm Loghain's men. I can work to disorient them considerably, but I doubt that I could perform a spell that is both powerful and precise enough to only affect our enemies."

The Arl nodded in understanding before turning to Morrigan. "What of you, milady?"

Alistair couldn't help but think back to that night in Howe's castle. Watching an entire contingent of soldiers burst apart in a lighting storm was the type of thing that stayed with someone. Morrigan was more than capable of destruction. He just prayed that she would be able to avoid annihilating Ferelden's entire government. "Morrigan will have no trouble dealing with the soldiers so long as we can buy her the time to prepare herself. I'm more concerned about the Arls. Do you think that any of them will order their guards to intervene?"

"Unlikely. It would be too much of a political risk. They would be afraid of picking the losing side."

Kallian raised her hand to draw attention to herself. "Speaking of losing and all, what happens if it looks like Loghain is going to win this thing fairly? I mean, I really don't want to be executed. Are we planning on taking him out if that happens?"

Alistair grimaced. "The short answer is yes. If Loghain is about to win, we will try to kill him."

"In which case, this would actually become a coup. Bear in mind that this would be a very unfavorable outcome. The last thing we want to do is begin a line of succession with a bloodbath that we instigated." The Arl smiled at Kallian. "Fortunately, there is not much chance of Loghain winning outright. Thanks to you and Alistair, I believe that it is much more likely that the Landsmeet will side in our favor."

Zevran tilted his head in an inquisitive gesture. "Our position is that strong?"

"Oh yes. Loghain's integrity had already been brought under intense scrutiny in the last few days. The prisoners in Howe's dungeon were bad enough, but now we have concrete evidence that he was working to enslave Ferelden citizens. Hero or not, that is an indefensible crime."

Alistair nodded in agreement. Loghain had dug himself in deep, and it was going to be a pleasure to watch him squirm. "We've also got allies. All that running around and killing monsters has paid off big. We've got two separate armies marching towards Denerim to help us against the Darkspawn. Throw in the Circle and suddenly we look like heroes."

Kallian caught his eye. "What about Ostagar?"

"We will not mention it aside from denying that we betrayed Cailan." Alistair shrugged in response to her disbelieving look. "I know, I'm not happy about it either. There's nothing I'd like more than to expose him as a traitorous bastard. The problem is that we have no proof. It's our word against his."

Eamon tapped his fingers on the surface of the desk. "It would look like we trying to attack his integrity out of desperation. We'll be far better off if we present ourselves as honorable and allow the evidence to speak for itself. Loghain is not a statesman. He will grow angry in the face of these accusations and look guiltier for it. All we must do is maintain our composure and allow Alistair to shine in comparison."

Alistair smirked. "That's for the best because I'm not a very bright star when I'm all on my own. However, in a sea of even dimmer stars…"

"We will also be refraining from attempts at humor while in the Landsmeet."

Wynne spoke up before Alistair could think of a retort. "What of Queen Anora? She will surely be present and unwilling to cede her position."

"Anora conveyed a message several days ago that suggested that she was open to considering a political marriage with Alistair so long as her father was promised immunity from persecution. Considering our previous dealings with her, I feel as though it is best to view this offer with skepticism."

Alistair felt a flicker of anger. "We won't be viewing it at all. Loghain dies no matter what."

"Heh, why not just give her a taste of her own medicine?" Oghren chuckled and leaned forward in his seat. "Just say that yer gonna' spare Loghain at first. Then, after yer married, ya go and chop off his head. Everyone would be happy."

"Except the woman I would be married to for life." Alistair shook his head. "That doesn't sit right with me in any case. If I wanted Loghain murdered, I would have taken Zevran up on his offer. Loghain has to be legally executed for his crimes. I want this done right."

"Hrrmmph, trust me, lad. Ain't no way to keep a wife happy in any case. No matter what, they end up running off to find anvils and sleep with women. It's better that you just get whatever you can out of the damn marriage and be happy with it."

"I don't think that's the universal experience."

"It's a metaphor!"

"I'm pretty sure that it isn't."

"Hrrmmph."

Arl Eamon paused long enough to give Oghren a quizzical look before turning to face Alistair. "Although this conversation is undoubtedly pertinent, I think it is best if we return to the subject at hand. There is one last point of discussion that merits out attention. We need to formulate a viable strategy for how to proceed should the Landsmeet rule inconclusively."

Kallian scratched her head. "Anyone feel like translating that?"

"He means that we need to decide what we are going to do if we don't have the five votes we need." Alistair barely withheld a smirk. If there were two people in the world who could be called perfect opposites of one another, it was Kallian and Eamon.

"Yes, that is correct. If the Arls are unable to reach a consensus, then there are two possible resolutions. The first possibility would involve a political arrangement of some kind. Given the importance of this particular issue, I feel as though there is not much chance of this occurring." Eamon paused a moment before continuing. "The second option would involve trial by combat."

Alistair smiled. "Good, let's do that."

"This is not something to take lightly, Alistair. Engaging in a duel would mean placing all of our hopes on a single combatant."

"I'm not taking this lightly. If it comes down to it, I rather place my trust in a sword than in a group of politicians." Alistair fixed Eamon with a level stare. Although he knew better than to say it aloud, part of him hoped that he would have a chance to fight Loghain in single combat. "If it comes to it, I can defeat Loghain."

"No, you cannot."

Alistair glared at his foster father. He understood Eamon's caution, but it would have been nice to see a little confidence. "I'm more than capable of besting a—"

"You misunderstand me, Alistair. I was not challenging you capabilities." Eamon waved his hand in a pacifying gesture. "What I meant is that you are _legally_ incapable of fighting a duel against Loghain."

"Huh?"

Eamon spread his hands. "Duels are traditionally fought by champions. As Anora is the one in line for the throne, Loghain is free to fight on her behalf. Since you are challenging her right, you are barred from engaging him in combat. Someone else will have to represent you in any duels that are fought."

Kallian suddenly chuckled. "Seriously? Well, let's send Sten in. He'll crush Loghain's head like a grape."

Alistair frowned slightly. He wished that Eamon had mentioned this little caveat sooner. Even so, Kallian did have a point. If they sent Sten into the duel, Loghain would probably end up smeared all over the walls in a matter of seconds. Besides, based on the smile that the qunari was wearing, Alistair doubted that Sten had a problem with being volunteered. The idea of honorable violence apparently appealed to the giant.

"While I would very much like to see that, I would also be hesitant to make that choice. Bear in mind that this champion will be a representative of your claim to the throne. I mean no offense by this, but choosing a qunari expatriate would not be viewed favorably. In fact, Loghain will have cause to object your choice. Champions are meant to be Ferelden citizens."

Considering Eamon's words, Alistair looked over the group for a moment. Now that he actually thought about it, most of the party was not from Ferelden. Zevran and Leliana were both foreigners, and the dwarves had sovereignty over their mountains. Magic wouldn't be allowed in a formal duel, so Wynne and Morrigan were out. It didn't leave a great deal of options.

"Ordinarily, I would offer one of my knights to stand for you. I have several men who are absolute terrors with a sword in their hands." Eamon stroked a hand along his beard as he spoke. "However, I cannot be seen providing you with martial strength. It would not be acceptable to have an Arl exhibit that degree of influence on a candidate for the throne. We shall have to find an acceptable champion, but I am at a loss for the moment. Perhaps we could—"

Kallian lifted two fingers to call attention to herself. "How about me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How about me?" Kallian repeated herself with a shrug. "I'll fight the duel for Alistair. They don't have problems with elves fighting, do they?"

"No, there is no official regulation barring elves from standing as champion." Eamon said this in a very skeptical tone of voice. He was staring at Kallian as if she were an impertinent child at a dinner party. "However, my belief is that it would not be wise to have you fight Loghain."

"Why?"

Eamon hesitated and then glanced at Alistair as if seeking support. "Well, I suppose that I am concerned that the contest would be…uneven."

Kallian's eyes narrowed at the Arl's implication. "Uneven?"

"Warden, understand that I do not mean to suggest that you are unskilled. You would not have been recruited in the Grey Wardens if you were anything short of talented." Eamon was using the overly-reasonable tone that Alistair had hated as a child. "However, my belief is that your abilities are poorly suited to a duel."

Kallian's eyebrows crept up in a fashion that was faintly mocking. "…Because you know so much about my abilities."

"I know about his. Loghain is going to enter combat in a suit of plate armor and will carry both broadsword and shield. Unless you are similarly attired, you will be at a tremendous disadvantage. He outweighs you by at least five stones and he will have the advantage at reach. In addition to all of this, Loghain has decades of combat experience."

"Then people are really going to be surprised when I kill him."

Leliana released a soft sigh. "This isn't a joke, Kallian."

"Who's joking?"

"Warden, you need to be reasonable." Eamon stabbed a finger against the surface of the desk to punctuate his point. "Considering the circumstances that I have just laid out, you have to see that challenging Loghain to single combat would be insanity."

This prompted Kallian to utter a short, dry laugh. Fingering the heavy bronze collar around her neck, she nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's kinda what I'm counting on."

It took Alistair a few seconds to catch her meaning. Even when it finally dawned on him, he wondered if he had somehow misheard. "You aren't suggesting what I think you are suggesting, right?"

"You have to admit that it would improve my chances."

"Absolutely not, Kallian." Leliana shot a sharp look at the woman beside her. She might not have looked pleased at the prospect of Kallian fighting a duel, but now her face was practically radiating disapproval. "This is not worth taking such a risk."

Kallian waved off the concern. "Maybe I'm wrong, but the impression I've gotten is it that winning this thing is the most important thing imaginable. Isn't there a good chance the entire country goes up in flames if Loghain keeps fucking things up?"

"We can find other options."

"Good ones? I mean, most of us can't enter as a champion and I doubt we want to put our trust in someone we don't know."

Alistair glanced over at Wynne. "Could Kallian do that safely?"

"I can't say. Much of her condition is still a mystery. Of course, I think it's rather obvious that she would be taking a substantial risk." Wynne paused for a moment before tilting her head. "Then again, it seems as though her symptoms vanish while she is wearing the Aegis. I see no reason to suspect that we would be unable to suppress a full episode by replacing it."

Kallian smirked. "There you go."

"That is simply a theory, Kallian." Leliana frowned at the elf. "There's still a risk."

"We are talking about fighting a duel here. It's a risk either way."

Leliana shot an exasperated look at Alistair. "Talk some sense into her."

All eyes turned to Alistair. Taking a moment to consider everything that had been said, he thought back to that bridge outside of Lothering. Kallian had ripped eight men apart in a few heartbeats. Wynne might not understand her condition, but Alistair at least understood what she was capable of. He may not like the idea of asking her to fight his battles, but she was providing a solution to the problem.

Finally, he decided that he'd stand by her decision. "It's Kallian's choice. If she thinks it is worth the risk, then I don't think I have the right to tell her differently. Besides that, if it comes to a duel, I'd feel better if a Grey Warden was standing against Loghain."

A short silence followed his words. Leliana had folded her arms across her chest and was looking very displeased. Eamon seemed to share her sentiments. Shuffling his papers in a poor attempt to conceal his frustration, Eamon cleared his throat. "We'll revisit this issue later."

"Sure, if you want. Is there anything else that we need to cover?"

"Not unless you have something that needs to be said." Eamon rubbed his brow-line with a hand before turning to Kallian. "Warden, if you truly intend to stand as champion then we should at least see about outfitting you with some proper protection. My armorer is brilliant at his craft and he will be happy to accommodate your needs."

"I'll take you up on that." Kallian smiled crookedly. "It's about time I got that jacket replaced."

"…Yes, I am sure."

Alistair hid a smile. "Alright, that's it for the prep meeting. We've got three days until the Landsmeet and the best thing we can do right now is make sure we are ready. So, get some sleep, buy supplies, and generally take care of whatever you need to take care of. Any questions?"

After it became clear that no one had anything else to say, the meeting broke up without much fanfare. Leaning against the desk, Alistair watched as Oghren and Zevran filed out the door after Sten. He glanced back to see that Eamon was also gathering himself up to leave. "It will work out, Eamon. Trust me when I say that Kallian can handle this."

"As you say, Alistair." Eamon took a stack of papers under his arm. "Forgive me for saying so, but she does not work to inspire confidence. Ultimately, it is your decision. I just pray that you made the right one."

With that, Eamon turned and moved towards the door. Sighing, Alistair shook his head in exasperation. Eamon was a very stubborn man. The fact that he was so often right only made his stubbornness all the more irritating. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of Kallian and Leliana as the two women left the study. They were talking in low voices, and based on their facial expressions, he had a feeling that he was witnessing the early stages of an argument.

Morrigan caught his eye as she followed the couple. Pausing for a bare instant, the witch flashed him a sly smile. It was a look that brimmed with promise, but it was gone within the span of a second. Letting her eyes linger on him a little longer, Morrigan then broke her gaze and disappeared through the door without looking back.

Alistair felt a small thrill of anticipation. He had gotten slightly better at reading Morrigan's odd cues and mannerisms. This one meant he could expect a visit from her in the near future. Although that was a pleasant notion for several reasons, he planned to put Leliana's advice to the test this time around. With any luck, things would go nice and smoothly.

Taking a deep breath, he stood from the desk and decided that it was best to find some lunch. He would shortly be engaging in a different type of duel, and he really didn't want to do it on an empty stomach.

…

xxXxx

…

Nearly an hour later, he opened the door to his room to find Morrigan already waiting for him. She was standing behind his desk with her eyes trained on a half-finished carving of a bear that he had been working on. Lifting her head as he entered, Morrigan tapped the carving with one long finger.

"This is anatomically incorrect."

Alistair blinked at her a few times before closing the door behind him. "Err…sorry, I suppose?"

"'Tis only a fault if it is left uncorrected." Morrigan circled around the desk without taking her eyes off of him. "The musculature in the hindquarters is more reminiscent of a rodent than any type of bear. You would do well to consult a likeness of some kind while working. 'Twould help to prevent such inaccuracies."

"Isn't it a little presumptuous to immediately decide that it was unintentional?" Alistair grinned as he walked over to join her. "I'll have you know that is artistic license at work. That statue represents all the times you want to seem like a bear; when really, you are a mouse."

Morrigan raised one elegant brow. "That is an excessively subtle allegory."

"Yeah," Alistair nodded in sage agreement. "I am full of depth and complexity."

"'Tis funny you should say that. Kallian has often told me that you are full of excrement."

"I refuse to believe that Kallian has ever used the word 'excrement'."

"Her choice of words was considerably courser, but the meaning remains intact." Morrigan smirked at him and then shrugged her shoulders. "On an unrelated note, I rather enjoyed our planning session this afternoon. It was a refreshing to see you use your head for a change."

Alistair tried to decide if she was being genuine in her lukewarm praise. "You normally hate our planning sessions."

"Yes, due in large part to the poor decision-making that so frequently arises from such occurrences. Today was a pleasant change of pace. We are proceeding logically and seemed well-prepared for any possible outcome. Best of all: none of our plans for the Landsmeet hinge on pursing some fanciful legend."

"Need I remind you that we _found_ Andraste's Ashes and that they _miraculously _cured Eamon?"

Morrigan pursed her lips. "In any case, I believe that today's meeting was a step in the right direction. Although, I do have a wonder that I would like to put to you."

"Shoot."

"Are you truly planning to allow Kallian to do as she intends?"

Alistair ran his hand through his hair and studied her for a moment. "You disapprove?"

"I find myself ambivalent on the subject. My question was not intended to indicate any particular opinion. I am simply curious as to your personal reasoning."

"In that case, I'll confess that I'm not too sure about it myself. It isn't exactly the most ideal situation I could imagine." He shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. "Still, I guess I think that I should just trust in her wisdom on this one."

"In spite of the fact that Kallian is not very wise?"

"Ouch."

"I do not mean to suggest that she is unintelligent. Kallian possesses an admirable degree of cunning." Morrigan flicked her fingers dismissively. "However, she is shortsighted and quick to act. 'Tis likely that she is endangering herself on multiple levels by accepting this position. Does that not concern you?"

"Of course, it concerns me. We may not always get along, but I like to think that Kallian and I are close." Alistair furrowed his brow as he considered his own words. "Hell, as sad as it might sound, she's probably the closest thing I have to family."

"Then why not protest her decision?"

Alistair didn't answer immediately. When the issue had been brought up in front of the group, he'd been quick to make a point of letting Kallian decide for herself. While that was certainly something she should be allowed to do, he would be lying if he said it was his only reason for keeping silent. Inhaling a long and slow breath, he studied his hands rather than meet Morrigan's searching gaze. "Would it be wrong if I said that part of me hopes to see her fight Loghain? I might be a bastard for wanting it, but that doesn't change the fact that Loghain deserves to run into whatever the hell it is that's inside of her."

Morrigan made a neutral sound. "That is interesting. If I may say so, 'tis nice to see that you are not entirely noble."

"It concerns me that you think that is an appealing trait."

"It shouldn't. I believe you are entitled to your feelings and expressing them is only natural." The corners of Morrigan's mouth curled up into a sly smile. "'Tis the right choice, in any case. Kallian will kill the man if things should come to a duel. I would warrant that it will be quite the spectacle as well."

Alistair chuckled. "They would talk about it for years. I can just imagine stories about how the Hero of River Dane lost to an elf girl who barely reached his shoulders."

"A shame that 'twill most likely be unnecessary to fight at all."

"Yeah."

There wasn't much else to say on the subject, so the two of them fell into a lull in the conversation. After only a few seconds of this, Morrigan apparently decided that it was time to move one. "Shall we continue this discussion in your bedchamber?"

"Ah…" Alistair coughed nervously as he resisted the impulse to immediately agree. He had to be strong if he wanted this to go well. "Actually, I was thinking we could just stay out here for a bit. Maybe we could take a seat on the couch or something?"

Morrigan glanced over her shoulder to regard the long, padded couch that rested against the western wall. Smiling in a manner that should be illegal, the witch turned to regard him in amusement. "Already eager to expand your horizons? I can hardly blame you for that."

"Err, I didn't mean it in that sense." Alistair hesitated as his traitorous brain decided to envision the scenario Morrigan was referring to. Shaking off the tempting notion before he could grow sidetracked, Alistair smiled broadly. "I was thinking we could talk for a bit."

Morrigan frowned. "What would you wish to discuss?"

"I don't know…how about regular stuff?"

"Regular stuff?"

"Yeah, just ordinary things." He ran a nervous hand through his hair and tried not to let his smile slip. Morrigan did not look entirely pleased with this development. In fact, she was starting to eye the door as if debating the merits of running away. "Umm, and I've got a surprise for you."

The witch's yellow eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What would that be?"

"It really isn't much of a surprise if I just tell you." Alistair spread his arms in a helpless gesture. "I guess you'll just have to take a seat and find out."

He was almost certain that Morrigan would take the bait. She might not be the most sociable woman in the world, but he had a feeling that her curiosity would outweigh her reluctance. Still, the glare she was sending his way was a bit disheartening.

At last, Morrigan released a frustrated sigh and turned on her heel. Striding over the couch, she sat down and shot him an expectant look. "Very well, I am sitting. Now I can only wait with baited breath for whatever unmatched wonder you plan on bestowing upon me."

Alistair relaxed a little. "That's sorta the spirit!"

Rather than immediately join her, he walked behind his desk and then bent down to retrieve her gift from the middle drawer. He had never been very good at wrapping things, so he had just bundled it up inside a spare cloak. It may not look nice, but Morrigan probably didn't care about wrapping paper in the slightest.

With the lumpy parcel in hand, he strolled over to the couch and took a seat next to Morrigan. Choosing to ignore the vaguely-annoyed look she sent his way, Alistair held out the gift in offering. She regarded it skeptically for a second before reaching out to pluck it from his grasp. Turning it over in her hands, she started to pull the cloak apart with an unreadable expression on her face.

Aware that he would start babbling if he said anything, Alistair forced himself not to remain silent as Morrigan unwrapped her present. He had found a copy of _Fables and Fanciful Tales_ in the Arl's study. Unfortunately, it had been tattered and probably older than he was. Rather than give her such a ragged gift, he had gone into the market and managed to find a book vendor who hadn't yet packed up his wares in preparation for the evacuation. The merchant had overcharged him horribly, but Alistair had ended up with a copy that was bound in handsome brown leather. The only question was whether or not Morrigan would actually want a collection of fairy tales.

"Hmm…a book?" Morrigan sounded more interested than outright pleased. Shooting a quick glance at Alistair, she read the title out loud. "_Fables and Fanciful Tales_ by Aldun Bartrow. Does this hold some significance that I should be aware of?"

Alistair swallowed. "Uh, try checking the bookmark."

Morrigan raised a brow as she cracked the book open to the section that Alistair had marked with the attached slip of ribbon. Staring down at the page for a long moment, she smiled faintly. "Ah…the Huntsman and the Stag."

"Leliana mentioned that you liked it."

Morrigan nodded absently as she stroked her finger along the page of the book as if it were a house cat. She stopped after a few beats and raised her eyes to Alistair's face. "This is a thoughtful gesture. You have my thanks."

"You're welcome, I am glad you like it."

The witch settled back into her seat. "Incidentally, I believe this is the first time I have ever been given a gift."

"Really?" Alistair blinked in surprise. Suddenly, he wished he had given her something better than a book. "I mean, are you sure?"

"My mother gave me things, of course. However, they were items that were necessary to either my survival or my education. Perhaps 'tis ungrateful of me to say so, but I did not consider those to be gifts in the traditional sense."

"And here I was thinking the Chantry was bad because they never gave us sweetrolls."

Morrigan rightfully ignored his joke. Brushing a few strands of her black hair from her face, she then used her hand to indicate the book. "Have you read the tale of the White Stag?"

"I have." Alistair saw no need to mention that he had only read it yesterday. "Very tragic with the wolves and all."

"My mother used to tell it to me as a child. She had no great love for fables, but every once in a while, she would share one with me." Morrigan smiled faintly as if she were recalling a fond memory. "Flemeth was not much of a storyteller. In spite of this, I grew very fond of those tales. They became my link to the outside world."

"How so?"

"Flemeth was able to educate me on a great many subjects, but she could not teach me about other people. She had a unique set of values and her instruction did little to instill a sense of what society would deem to be appropriate or not. When I was old enough to venture into Lothering or one of the other small towns, I quickly found that I had no grasp of their customs. In fact, some of what I encountered still baffles me to this day. For instance: why do you all insist on touching?"

Alistair scratched his head in confusion. "Err…touching?"

"Yes, why must everyone grasp hands or embrace constantly?" Morrigan waved a hand in exasperation. "'Tis intrusive and unwelcome. Regardless, this is not what I meant to speak of. What I intended to say is that these so-called 'fairy tales' taught me a great deal about what is considered appropriate in your culture."

"Ah, from the morals of the stories." Alistair was torn between amusement and pity. The idea of a young Morrigan trying to puzzle out human interaction from fairytales was simultaneously adorable and kind of sad. "Did the stories help?"

"Not as much as I initially hoped, but they did help to clarify things in some instances."

"Why not just ask Flemeth?"

"As I said, her views on morality were complex." Morrigan hesitated for a moment before continuing. "And she could become very cross when I pestered her with questions."

It was odd to hear Morrigan speak about Flemeth in this context. Alistair had never really given thought to why Morrigan acted in the manner that she did, but now he felt like he was beginning to understand. Shifting on the couch, he leaned over and tapped the cover of the book. "Well, I hope you'll find some of these interesting. For an old, drunken dwarf, Aldun Bartrow sure knew his fairy tales. Come to think of it, I had a nurse who used to read me some of these as a kid."

Morrigan cocked her head curiously. "Did you have a preference for any in particular?"

"Sure, I always liked 'The Three Little Nugs'."

"I am unfamiliar with that tale."

Alistair grinned as he brought the story to mind. "It's basically about these three nugs who all build houses. One builds a house of straw, one builds a house of sticks, and the third builds a house of bricks. Everything is good until this wolf comes along and threatens to blow their houses down. Basically, the wolf huffs, and puffs, and then blows the straw house down. After he eats that first nug, he goes and does the same thing to the house of sticks. He eats that nug too, but when he gets to the house of bricks, he can't blow it down. I forget how it ends, but I think the wolf dies of a collapsed lung or something."

Morrigan tilted her head and gave him a blank look. "Is that the entire story?"

"More or less."

"What is the moral of that, I wonder?" Morrigan's brows drew together. "That most that could be said is that one should not use substandard building materials."

Alistair shrugged. "I dunno…maybe that wolves are dicks?"

Morrigan stared at him with a pained expression. "I should have guessed that would be your response."

"Why?"

"No reason in particular." the witch shook her head. "'I suppose that I am just beginning to understand that the Wardens may have actually had a certain criteria for who they recruited."

"Yeah, I am going to go ahead and take that as a compliment."

Trading a brief, appreciative smile, the two of them fell into a silence that was remarkably comfortable. Alistair was rather amazed with how well this had turned out. This was a good conversation for the two of them, and Morrigan's insults had been more perfunctory than anything else.

As the silence stretched on, he started to wonder how to proceed from this point. His plans had mostly revolved around the gift, and now he was at something of a loss. Just as he was about to start considering the merits of awkwardly blurting out a new topic, Morrigan saved him by making a request. "Place your arm around me."

Alistair wasn't sure he had heard that correctly. "Hmm?"

"Place your arm around me in a possessive and overly-familiar manner." Morrigan averted her eyes and spoke in a clipped tone. "That is a common occurrence, is it not?"

Trying very hard not to laugh, Alistair slowly lifted his arm and placed it around Morrigan's shoulders. Aware that it would be weird if they were still sitting with nearly a foot between them, he scooted closer so that the entire thing felt more natural. Morrigan was still sitting rather stiffly, but Alistair decided that she wouldn't appreciate it if he told her to relax. Instead, he simply settled back and enjoyed the sensation of her warm body against his.

After nearly a minute of this, Morrigan finally relaxed into his hold. "Well, 'tis not entirely unpleasant."

"No," Alistair agreed. "'Tis certainly not the worst thing in the world."

Morrigan turned her head to fix him with an unimpressed look. "Considering that you have the syntax of an uncommonly slow-witted child, I would think that you are hardly in a position to mock anyone's manner of speech."

"I am afraid I have no idea what you mean. 'Twas not my intention to mock anything."

Morrigan rolled her eyes and shook her head in a longsuffering manner. Still, Alistair could see a hint of a smile playing at her lips. It was encouraging to know that she was at least capable of recognizing lighthearted teasing. Shifting a little, he pulled her closer and smiled to himself.

To his utter surprise, Morrigan responded by hesitantly lowering her head to rest on his shoulder. Remaining perfectly still as if a butterfly had just alighted on his hand, Alistair stared down at the top of her head and blinked stupidly. Their entire interaction had been a little amazing, but this was downright surreal.

Without lifting her head, Morrigan spoke up in a soft voice. "So then, how do we proceed from here?"

"I think we just sit like this for a while, murmuring sweet nothings in each other's ears." Alistair inhaled slowly and released a dramatic breath. "Then I will regale you with a sonnet I've written. It will be terrifyingly romantic."

Morrigan made a derisive sound. "If you attempt to recite a single line of poetry, I will tear your tongue out."

"Wow, we are going to have to work on your sweet nothings."

…

xxXxx

* * *

Lol, I know, I know, Morrigan is OOC. Trust me though, their relationship is more complex than it appears. Aside from that, this chapter was sort of the last lighthearted moment in the fic before things get real. I'm very excited to write the next chapter, and I hope to have it out in a week or so. Actually, I'm really excited to write every chapter after this one. I think I might have said that there were several chapters I've wanted to write from the onset, and every single one of the upcoming chapters are in that list.

Also, I had an anonymous reviewer ask about possible continuations for this fic. I won't go into Awakening because I thought the DLC was kind of boring, and any DA:2 fics I write will be unrelated to Thorns. So, basically I'm not planning on doing any direct sequels to this fic. I may have a few one-shots that spin off from the ending, but I can't talk about them without giving stuff away :)

Thanks everybody for reviewing! I really enjoyed reading your feedback. Consider leaving some more if you feel like making my day!


	43. Bleeder

**A/N: "Better late than never" is apparently my motto.**

Chapter 43: Bleeder

-Denerim-

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xxXxx

…

Things didn't always work out in the way that one might expect them to.

One of the first jobs Kallian had ever pulled involved stealing a vase from the house of an inland trader. The plan had been for her to pick the lock on the side entrance and break-in while he was off doing business in the marketplace. It should have gone smoothly. Two members of the crew she was working with had been scouting the house for days so as to learn the schedules of everyone who went in or out. When they told her the house was empty, Kallian had moved forward without a single thought.

What she didn't know was that the two men had not taken their job very seriously. So, when Kallian got inside, she found herself face-to-face with the man's wife. That moment of primal horror would forever be stamped into her memory. It had felt like her stomach would eat itself out of sheer panic. If it hadn't been for some fast thinking, she would have ended up in the hands of the City Guard.

Acting out of sheer desperation, Kallian somehow managed to convince the woman that she was a new servant. After scolding Kallian for wearing filthy clothing and not having the common decency to knock, the woman put her to work chopping carrots. For nearly two hours, Kallian helped with all the household chores. At any moment, the husband could have come home and exposed her ruse for what it was. It was only after Kallian excused herself to use the chamberpot that she found a chance to escape. Stealing the vase at that point had been out of the question. The lady of the house knew her face, and it would have been no trouble for the guards to comb the Alienage. Her daring heist had ended with her leaping from a two-story window into some very thorny bushes.

It might have been the end of her thieving career. Kallian was only fourteen, and the job turned into a spectacular failure even if it wasn't entirely her fault. The thief lord who hired her got mad as hell wh. He had knocked Kallian around something fierce before telling her that he'd kill her if he ever saw her again. She went home that night empty-handed and miserable. It had been a hard few months and her father needed the extra coin. Kallian remembered thinking that if they starved, it would be because she had screwed up.

That didn't turn out to be the case. As luck would have it, the story got around to another crew boss who thought it was the funniest damn thing he had ever heard. His take on everything was that Kallian deserved a second chance just for having the stones to stick around doing housework. He offered Kallian a role in a minor con. She did that job well enough and used her share of the payoff to buy enough grain to help her father get by.

The real kicker came a few weeks after her second chance. It turned out that the man who had hired her for the original job pissed of the Guard in some way or another. The result of which was a crackdown on every illegal operation he oversaw. Most of the thieves working for him ended up imprisoned or flat-out dead. If Kallian had still been running with him, she probably would have shared in the same fate.

So really, a bad turn of events could occasionally work in one's favor. Kallian thought it was important to keep that in mind now that she was about to fight to the death.

In the plainest of terms, their efforts had failed. The Landsmeet voted four to two in Alistair's favor; just one vote shy of being enough. Kallian still wasn't sure how that had even happened. After hearing that Loghain was involved in slavery, kidnapping, torture, and an attempt on the life of the Arl, two of the voting members had still decided that Loghain was the man they wanted running their country. Even thinking about it made Kallian want to start cursing. Rather than settling this king issue in a reasonable manner, they had made it so that things had to become complicated.

That was why she would shortly be fighting to a duel to decide the fate of a country. Unsurprisingly, her stomach felt like it was about to eat itself.

She sat on a long wooden bench on one side of Ferelden's throne room. Even though her thoughts should have been elsewhere, Kallian couldn't help take in her srroundings. The room was impressive in a way that demanded one's attention. Rectangular in shape, it had a high ceiling that stretched far overhead. Two balconies ran alongside its length. Both were currently packed with nobles and wealthy merchants. They had come to bear witness to the Landsmeet, and now they were staying to observe the duel. Kallian was of the opinion that it was decidedly fucked up to have spectators watching while two people tried to hack each other to death.

Much of the bottom level of the room was also filled with people. Although Arl Eamon had told her that the Landsmeet was open to all Ferelden citizens, Kallian noticed that everyone present was dressed very nicely. They were not as important as the men and women in the balconies, but they were still the upper crust of Ferelden society. Right now, the crowd was a chaotic swirl of motion as people bustled about in all directions. An excited hum of many voices all speaking at once filled the room like a physical presence.

There was not much else to fill it. Whoever decorated this place had clearly been of the opinion that less was more. Considering what the throne room represented, Kallian had been expecting all manner of pretty things. It was disappointing to learn that the only decorations in here were a few tapestries and a long, blue carpet that ran the length of the hall. Even the throne itself was something of a letdown. Instead of a massive seat of gold and ivory, the throne was just an ordinary chair carved from pale wood. It was a nice chair to be sure, but a chair nonetheless. The only thing that really distinguished it was the fact that was set on a dais at the far end of the room.

Kallian thought it was odd that they were fighting over such a simple thing. Looking at it now, she felt like this was all very stupid. Chances were that the Darkspawn would murder everyone and burn this entire town to cinders.

A warm hand covered hers. "What are you thinking about?"

"Eh, nothing much." Kallian flashed an automatic smile over at Leliana. "Cheerful thoughts about rainbows and shit."

"Be serious."

"Fine, I'm starting to think you might have been right about the whole 'duel thing'."

"That's good to hear. I was beginning to think you resisted good sense out of principle alone." A strained smile ghosted across Leliana's lips. "If only you had come to that realization sooner. We might have been able to avoid this entirely. Sadly, stubbornness prevailed."

Kallian grinned and nodded slowly. She could appreciate a healthy amount of smug when she heard it. "No one likes a snarky bitch, Leliana."

"Now, would that be the pot speaking to the kettle?"

"Fair enough." She let her gaze drift over to where several of the guards ushering the crowd back. They were clearing a space for the combatants—no, for her— to fight. Kallian licked her lips and swallowed against the knot that was forming in her throat. "I don't suppose you've ever fought a duel? I'm open for any pointers."

"Stop thinking about this fight as if it was different from all the others you've been in. I've seen you take opponents one-on-one before. This duel is nothing exceptional." Leliana lifted a hand and pointed across the room to where Loghain was waiting alongside his daughter. "That man has three times your years and is wearing armor. You'll have space to move around, so make sure you do. Patience is your best option here. Let him grow tired or make a mistake that you can exploit. Whatever you do, don't let him get close. He'll knock you down and then it will be over."

"And if that fails, start fighting dirty." Zevran's purring voice came from off to their right. Turning her head, Kallian watched as he walked over and took a seat beside her. Zevran had come to the Landsmeet in a pale-green shirt and tan breeches. It suited him very well, and one would have to look closer to notice that he was also wearing a thin shirt of chainmail underneath. "Remember: the throat, the knees, and the eyes. Especially the eyes; people hate it when you attack their eyes."

Kallian grinned in spite of herself. "Eyes? What about kicking his fruits?"

"It is the woman's prerogative." Leliana leaned to rest her elbows on her knees. "Although, I fear that such a thing would not be looked favorably upon by this crowd."

"They're not going to think too much of me anyway."

Zevran chuckled. "No, no they won't. Elf girls from the Alienage don't make for very romantic heroes. Don't let their disdain stop you, _bella_. You are at your best when you are fighting like a savage street rat."

"That's sweet of you to say."

"Do not even mention it."

The smile slid off of her face as the three of them fell silent. Kallian knew that they were trying to keep her from brooding before the fight. The gesture was appreciated, but Kallian did not think anything could distract her from what lay ahead. Too much was riding on the outcome.

Her eyes scanned the crowd before landing on Arl Eamon and Alistair. The two humans were standing several yards away with their heads bowed closely together. Wynne was nearby, but she was not paying attention to whatever conversation they were sharing. The rest of their companions were spread out around Alistair and Eamon in a loose semicircle. It was unlikely that Loghain would try to attack before the duel commenced, but they were not taking that risk. Kallian could see Oghren off to the far left, and Sten was practically impossible to miss. The qunari had refused to wear anything except his armor to the Landsmeet, so he towered over the dispersing crowd like a living mountain of metal.

Morrigan was also notable for how out of place she looked. Alistair had somehow managed to convince her to wear a normal dress to the occasion, and the witch seemed about as comfortable as a hangnail. Kallian personally thought that Morrigan looked beautiful in the elegant purple gown. Telling Morrigan as much had earned her a very nasty glare in response.

A rapid clicking sound drew Kallian's attention. Looking down, she realized that she was unconsciously tapping the heel of her foot against the floor. She managed to halt the tic with some effort. "Damn, what's taking them so long? Can't we get this done already?"

Zevran answered her. "My understanding is that it has been some time since the last duel was fought. Our dear Arl tells me that they need to unearth whatever book holds the actual rules. We don't want you to go to all the trouble of killing a man only to learn that it doesn't count because of a technicality."

"Yeah, I guess."

Leliana glanced at Zevran before lowered her voice slightly. "Do you still intend to remove your collar?"

Kallian raised a hand to finger the edge of her grossly uncomfortable necklace. The metal still felt cold in spite of the fact that it had been touching her skin for more than week. She had argued with Leliana about this many times over the past few days. "That's the plan."

"You don't need to sound so worried. I'm not going to try to change your mind. At this point, I very much doubt there's anything that I could say to sway your opinion."

"I know you don't like it, but I think it's the right choice. Alistair needs to become king if we're going to beat the Darkspawn. I figure that it's the one thing I can do to make sure that Loghain doesn't win."

Leliana gave her an oddly blank look. "You're right."

"I beg your pardon?"

"There are not many things worth risking your life for, but this is one of them." The bard turned her face away from Kallian. "It's taken me several days to come to the realization that your choice was the right one. I wanted so badly to convince you that it was too dangerous. But, the truth is that we need to take any advantage we can get. That includes your condition."

Kallian was not used to having someone concede to her point. She blinked a few times as she tried to think of a decent response. "If it helps, I'm not enthusiastic about it either."

"I'm more than unenthusiastic, Kallian, I'm downright terrified. The idea that you might not come back frightens me so badly that I am not even sure how to properly express it." Leliana shook her head in a slight motion. "What would you do in my position?"

"I'd try to stop you."

Leliana hummed an agreement. "At least we understand one another."

"Hey, it's going to be alright. I'll even make you a promise." Kallian reached out and took Leliana's left hand in both of her own. She wanted to do something to chase the note of hopeless frustration out of the other woman's voice. "There's something important I've been meaning to tell you for a while, but I won't say it right now. Instead, I'm gonna' promise to tell you after this duel is over. I'll think of it as a reason to kill Loghain quickly."

Leliana's bright blue-eyes lifted up to settle on Kallian's face. The bard studied her for a long moment before a ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. "How important are we talking about?"

"Pretty damn important."

"Pretty damn important..?" Leliana repeated her words as a question. Looking down at their hands, she released a short laugh. "I'll hold you to your promise. Just know that I will never be able to forgive you if you disappoint me in this regard."

"Don't worry, I don't intend to."

There was a short pause as the two of them just looked at one another, and then Zevran cleared his throat. For the first time since Kallian had met him, Zevran actually looked uncomfortable. "Had I known that you two would be having this particular conversation, I probably would not have come over."

Kallian smirked at him. "Too personal?"

"Entirely."

"Well, so long as we are doing touching moments, I guess I should say that I'm really glad I decided not to kill you."

Zevran nodded gravely. "As are thousands of women across Thedas."

"You are awful at touching moments."

"Only in this context, _bella_." Zevran grinned at her before his expression suddenly became serious. "Ah, it seems something has developed."

Kallian looked up to see Alistair approaching with Arl Eamon at his side. For some reason, both Wynne and Morrigan were following close behind. Straightening up in her seat, Kallian did her best to look confident and unaffected. Alistair had been under a lot of stress today. He didn't need to see her worrying on top of whatever was going through his head right now.

Arl Eamon addressed her before he had even come to a stop. "Warden, it is not too late to change your mind. The duel will be fought regardless, but you need not risk your life. I have spoken with some friends of mine and they have put me in contact with several knights who would willingly fight on Alistair's behalf."

It took all of her strength not to roll her eyes. Arl Eamon could not have less confidence in her if he tried. She supposed that she would probably be taken a similar stance if she were in his place. Still, it was not doing much for her moral. "I want to fight."

"Yes, but there are ways in which—"

"She wants to do this, Eamon." Alistair cut the Arl off in midsentence. He then placed a supportive hand on Kallian's shoulder. "It's what we agreed upon and I wouldn't want anybody else fighting for me. Besides, she's going to wipe the floor with Loghain."

It was one of the most endearing things Kallian had ever heard. After having everyone treat her decision like it was a terrible mistake, she was happy to hear that at least one person had a shred of confidence in her. Relaxing a little, she reached out and rapped her knuckle against Alistair's armored leg. "Thanks, Alistair. I'll have you on the throne in no time."

"There's a mistake you're going to live to regret. Now, everyone can blame you when I turn out to be the worst king in Ferelden's history."

"Eh, I'll just say you paid me."

"Clever."

Arl Eamon looked between Alistair and Kallian with an expression of intense disapproval. His gaze eventually settled on Kallian. "I am glad is a joke to you both. Warden, remember that there are more lives than your own at risk. If Alistair loses for the sake of your pride, many people will die as a result."

With that, the Arl stormed off with as much dignity as an angry man might possess. Kallian broke the awkward silence that followed with a small cough. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"He doesn't." Alistair took his hand off of her shoulder. "It's mostly because you aren't part of his plan. I think he was expecting to win this thing outright. The duel and everything about it is a gamble. Eamon isn't much of a gambler."

Wynne clucked her tongue. "Forgive an old woman her clichés, but we'll just have to play with the hand we are dealt. I suppose we should see about removing that collar, Kallian."

"Oh, right." Kallian carefully avoided looking in Leliana's direction as she got up and moved to stand in front of Wynne. "Just to be sure: you will be able to slap this thing back on once it's off, right?"

"Yes. The Aegis will not be damaged. The only possible complication that might arise is if you are not cooperative when the time comes." Wynne stooped down to study the collar as she spoke. "Alistair mentioned that you were a touch unresponsive when the last episode occurred. I felt as though it might be wise to take certain precautions in case you prove difficult to subdue. Morrigan was kind enough to volunteer in that capacity."

"What does that mean?"

Wynne caught Kallian's chin to hold her head still. "Don't squirm, and you can ask her yourself."

"Morrigan?"

"I have been practicing a spell I took from Mother's grimoire. 'Tis a useful incantation that is simple in concept if not execution." Morrigan stepped into Kallian's line of sight and gave her an uncomfortably enthusiastic smile. "Cast properly, it should immobilize you completely while causing no lasting injury."

"What happens if it cast improperly?"

"You would be subject to a considerable amount of lasting injury."

"Sodding hell."

"Not to worry," Morrigan flicked her fingers in a dismissive wave. "I have become much more proficient with that particular spell. The last three rats I practiced upon all survived."

"How many rats were there to begin with?"

Morrigan opened her mouth to reply and then seemed to think better of it. She averted her eyes from Kallian's face. "Oh, who keeps track of such things?"

Kallian frowned at her and tried to stand still as Wynne began running her fingers along the outside edge of the collar. After a moment, Wynne spoke a single word and an electric charge surged through Kallian's muscles. She bit down on her tongue to resist protesting the unpleasant sensation. Then, with a metallic click, the rounded ends of the collar snapped apart.

She had been wearing it for so long that she had grown used to the constriction around her throat. Now that it was gone, Kallian luxuriated in the feeling of being to breathe easily. Lifting her hands to her neck, she drew the stiff metal arms of the collar back and slid it free. It was such a relief to be rid of that damn thing.

"Ahhhh," Kallian rolled her head from side-to-side in series of satisfying cracks. "I've wanted to do that for weeks."

Wynne took the collar from her. "How are you feeling?"

The relief of being out of the collar faded as Kallian remembered what it signified. Frowning to herself, she massaged the side of her neck with one hand while waiting for something to happen. As the seconds ticked by, she was surprised to find that she felt completely normal. There did not seem to be any difference now that it had been removed. A small flicker of bittersweet hope flared up in her chest. For a moment, she allowed herself to think that maybe she was cured.

The whispering began soon after. It started out softly as if were traveling from a great distance to reach her. The room seemed to echo with the faint murmurs that somehow cut through all of the other voices in the hall. Kallian curled her hands into fists as the sounds swirled and flitted about her head. All of the voices sounded like they belonged to one person, but each varied in both volume and cadence. The language was unfamiliar and guttural. It was an incomprehensible storm of noise. Kallian had almost forgotten how awful it was.

"So, I'm still crazy." She tried to make it sound lighthearted, but it came across as bitter. Wynne's mouth thinned into a soft smile that made Kallian want to look away. As much as she had grown to like the elderly mage, pity rubbed her the wrong way. Manufacturing a casual tone, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's the same. No better, no worse."

Alistair chewed on his lower lip. "How about everything else? Is the new armor treating you well?"

Kallian glanced down at herself. Arl Eamon's armorer had done a nice job making her look like a respectable fighter. The hardened leather cuirass that she was wearing was only reinforced in certain areas to allow her the most flexibility. On the armorer's insistence, she had also agreed to a short-sleeved chainmail shirt that would help turn a blade. Long bracers covered the lengths of her forearms, but she had forgone any type of protection on her legs. The added weight would throw off her balance and she needed mobility more than anything else. Underneath the armor itself, she wore calfskin trousers and a long shirt that was dyed in the royal blue of the Wardens.

In terms of weapons, she carried her sword slung over her right shoulder. The blade was going to be her trump card. She still wasn't sure that she believed it was enchanted, but it had cut through dragonscales like they were flimsy cloth. Loghain's armor probably would not give it too much trouble. If that failed, she also had a brace of daggers on her belt.

If she was being honest, all the precautions were more or less pointless. Kallian didn't know what was going to happen once her curse took over. The most she could hope for was that she'd have enough presence of mind to defeat Loghain without killing anyone else.

She nodded in response to Alistair's question. The unnatural whispering in her ears was making it hard to concentrate. "Yeah, I'm all set."

No one spoke for a nearly a minute. There was not much else to say or do while they were waiting for things to get underway. After a time, Leliana stood up and moved to stand next to Kallian. It was a small thing that made her feel significantly better. With nothing else to occupy her mind, Kallian focused on the smell of Leliana's perfume as she tried to ignore the flickering mirages that were sprouting up the corner of her vision. They were tricks of her mind, and experience had taught her that trying to look at them directly was pointless.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Well, it looks like we are about to begin."

Kallian looked up and watched as an elderly human move to stand in front of the throne. He was wearing a set of the long, black robes that were worn by the city magistrates. A short mantle of purple fabric was draped over his shoulder to distinguish him as the presiding chairman of the Landsmeet. Actually, Kallian couldn't quite remember if Arl Eamon had identified him as a chancellor or a chairman. She didn't know the difference between the titles in any case, so it was something of a moot point.

The magistrate lifted his hands for silence. When the crowded hall finally went quiet, he spoke up in a remarkably resonant voice. "It has been decided that this Landsmeet will be resolved through martial combat. The duel will be fought by champions in single combat. A decision may only be reached upon the death of one of the combatants. Interfering with the duel in any capacity will be punished by immediate execution. The outcome of the duel will be uncontestable. Two minutes from this point, I will call upon Anora Theirin and Alistair Theirin to present their champions. Before combat will commence, the Reverend Mother will offer prayer before the Maker's gaze."

This was it. Kallian felt oddly relieved as the members of their party regrouped around Alistair. At least there would be no more waiting. She stood next to Leliana and shook her head in an attempt to clear the whispering in her ears. The noise of the assembled crowd helped somewhat. The various nobles were making a commotion as they all tried to find the best view of the space designated for the duel.

Leliana turned to her and spoke with a soft kind of urgency. "I care for you very deeply. Make certain you come back."

"I'll be sure." Kallian smiled at her in an attempt to reassure them both. "The way I see it, I've got a lot more to live for than he does."

Leliana surprised Kallian by leaning down and kissing her gently on the lips. Ignoring the fact that they were in a very public place, Kallian returned it in the few seconds before Leliana pulled away. The bard tried to give her an encouraging smile. It did not really work, but Kallian returned it nonetheless.

"The duel will now commence." The magistrate's voice drew her attention back to the center of the room. "Anora Theirin, please announce your champion. Bear in mind that this individual will represent both you and your claim to the throne."

Anora stepped forward so that she stood apart from the rest of her retinue. The Queen really was beautiful. She was dressed in a white gown that brought out the healthy glow of her pale skin. Her hair was elaborately braided, and she carried herself in a way that just seemed regal. Kallian could not but feel self-conscious when she looked at Anora. There was too much confidence and grace present in the other woman. It was intimidating.

"Thank you, Magistrate." Anora inclined her head in the man's direction before turning to face the crowd. Her voice rang out with all the clarity of Chantry bell. "There is only one man I would have fight in my stead. I call upon Loghain Mac Tir: Teyrn of Gwaren, Hero of the River Dain, and Former Councilor to my husband, King Cailan, to stand as my champion."

Loghain stepped forward and was promptly greeted by a scattering of cheers and applause. He looked every bit as grim and competent as Kallian remembered. His plate armor was still dark-grey and unadorned. Loghain held a large, kite-shaped shield in his left hand, but his broadsword remained sheathed at his waist. His head was uncovered to allow his long, dark hair to tumble over his shoulders. As walked to stand beside the magistrate, Loghain lifted his free hand to acknowledge the crowd. Whatever had happened at this Landsmeet, Loghain was still the popular hero.

The magistrate nodded at Loghain before turning to face the other side of the room. "Alistair Theirin, please announce your champion. Bear in mind that this individual will represent both you and your claim to the throne."

Alistair stepped forward quickly. Kallian was pleased to see that he did not hesitate or fidget. Whatever nerves he had displayed during the actual Landsmeet seemed to have vanished. When he spoke, his voice was composed and measured. "I call upon Kallian Tabris, Grey Warden and elf of Denerim's Alienage to stand as my champion."

Kallian squared her shoulders and began walking forward. There were no cheers or applause to greet Alistair's announcement. Instead, the crowd broke out into a hissing tide of confused murmurings. Kallian could even hear more than few incredulous laughs rise up from around the room. It should have been humiliating, but their disdain touched on her pride. She lifted her chin and glared out at the faces in crowd as she moved to the center of the room. Let them laugh if they wanted. She was a Grey Warden.

Loghain did not seem to think she was funny. He watched her with a thoughtful frown on his face as she moved to stand next to him. Kallian faced forward and did not bother to acknowledge his presence. The two of them would be seeing plenty of one another in just a few minutes.

She folded her arms and listened as the magistrate reiterated the rules and then introduced the Reverend Mother. The head of Ferelden's Chantry was an elderly, yet robust, woman with a kind face. She moved to stand almost directly in front of the crowd and began reciting some excerpt from the Chant of Light. The entire room fell silent as almost everyone bowed their heads. Kallian didn't follow their example and neither did Loghain. The Teyrn turned to look down at her as the Reverend Mother said her prayer.

"Warden," he sounded weary as he addressed her in a low voice. "Odd that it should come down to the two of us."

Kallian glanced at him and noticed for the first time that Loghain seemed very tired. He had lost weight since Ostagar, and his face was lined with new wrinkles. In spite of this, his cold blue-eyes still burned with the same intensity. She turned back to the crowd. "Not really."

He nodded to himself. "I've heard reports of what you and that boy have been doing. Impressive work in many ways."

"And?"

"And I've been thinking about Ostagar lately. I don't regret my decision, but I have wondered how things would be if I had made a different choice. I like to think that Ferelden could have benefited from the three of us working together instead of against one another."

"It's too late for that."

Loghain was silent for a few moments while the Reverend Mother droned on about Andraste and how great she was. After a while, he murmured a soft response. "Is it?"

"You tried to murder me at Ostagar and you would have sold my father into slavery." Kallian turned her head in order to glare at him. A faint buzzing began to fill her ears. "The only thing I want to do is tear out your heart and give it to your daughter. So let's go with that and stop pretending like there's another option."

"I see." Loghain did not seem surprised by her reaction. "I spoke to you once about the difference between a soldier and a simple killer. It's a matter of dedication and personal integrity. We both did the things we've done because we believed they are right. I won't ask you to forgive my actions, but can you at least understand them?"

"Fuck that, and fuck you."

"Very well."

Kallian faced forward as the Reverend Mother began to wind down. She did not know what type of game Loghain was playing, and she did not particularly care. Her initial plan had been to try and beat Loghain without resorting to her curse. Now that she was up here and standing next to him, that restraint faded. All she wanted to do was kill this arrogant bastard as quickly as possible.

A headache began to form behind her eyes as she thought back to Keeper Zathrian had told her about the curse. It was supposed to be triggered by strong emotion, and she had plenty of those. Given the circumstances, making herself angry was not terribly difficult. Kallian could still feel Loghain's hands around her neck; could still remember seeing her father huddled in a slaver's cage. Holding those experiences in her mind, she felt her ears grow hot as rage began to gather in her breast.

The Reverend Mother finished her speech. Kallian barely even noticed. A chattering hum filled her ears as if a thousand insects had suddenly entered the hallway. Breathing shallowly through her mouth, she experience a thrill of fear. There was something unusual about what she was feeling. The anger was coming too quickly and fiercely for her liking.

With all the useless ceremony out of the way, it was time to begin. The old magistrate retook the center stage and directed the two of them to stand apart from one another. Moving some ten yards away, Loghain drew his broadsword from his sheath and held it in front of his face in a warrior's salute. Kallian reached back to slide her own sword from its sheath. She let it dangle loosely in one hand. If Loghain expected her to return his stupid flourish, he had another thing coming.

Besides, she had more pressing concerns than following protocol.

Her headache was only growing worse, and new memories began to arise unbidden in her mind. That alone should not have been too unusual, but Kallian did not _want_ to think about them. They just suddenly appeared at the forefront of her consciousness as if they were being chosen by something beyond her control. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, and then things took a turn for the worse.

Sharp pain knifed through her brain and suddenly Kallian was twelve years old again. She could hear the wet pops of her fingers breaking as a City Guardsman cursed her for being a pickpocket. The hot agony lanced up her hand and foreman. She tried to scream.

Another blinding explosion of pain erupted inside her skull and then she was watching her being beaten to death. She could hear the thudding impacts of the guards' boots, and even feel the dirty floor of an alleyway beneath her knees. There was nothing to indicate that what she was experiencing was anything less than real. Kallian was paralyzed the exact same sense of encompassing horror she had felt all those many years ago. She was reliving the moment in perfect clarity.

Her mother's death faded and was immediately replaced by Vaughan. Kallian could smell the sour reek of human sweat even as she felt his weight upon her. Kallian began to panic as the harsh realization of what she was about to experience filled her. Mercifully, the memory shifted almost as quickly as it began.

It all became chaos after that. The recollections began to come faster and faster. Kallian saw herself stabbing a man in the face in one moment, and then suddenly she was in Redcliffe under the control of a possessed boy. A blurring maelstrom of sensation raced through her awareness. At some point, she stopped perceiving things for what they were. Only vague notions of fear, pain, and hatred registered in her mind.

Her memories began to fade as the icy waves began to lap at the edges of her mind. She felt like an empty husk and that was better than before. There was no pain and no fear. There was no sense of self and nothing to worry over. In fact, there was nothing at all.

Except for the Cold.

…

xxXxx

…

She opened her eyes only to find herself in a world of victims.

There were so many nearby. She could smell the rank odor of their soft bodies. She could hear the pattering of their heartbeats. Staring out across the sea of pale faces, she noted the absence of fear. These paltry scraps of life had no concept of what now stood before them. They would learn soon enough.

Music gathered around her like a strengthening breeze. The odd, discordant notes were beautiful in a way that defied description. She could do more than simply hear the music; she could feel it in every fiber of her being. It rippled through her muscles and traveled along the branching paths of her skeleton until it coalesced at the center of her breast. As soon as it was tied to the deepest part of her existence, the music began to speak.

A single voice, multiplied endlessly upon itself, emerged from the chaos of noise. It directed her to one human that stood apart from the rest of the herd. This one was clad in a carapace of metal like some type of monstrous shellfish. He was nearing the autumn of his life, but his eyes were sharp enough to betray the presence of a cunning mind. She thought of an old wolf, no longer as strong as the younger generation, but experienced enough to survive when they might not.

It was clear from his weapons that human intended to challenge her in combat. An amusing notion, but she would indulge his peculiar form of suicide

The old human started forward with his sword and shield held at the ready. Small pulses of the Cold ran through her body as she tracked his progress with her eyes. She made no move to raise the sword in her hand or otherwise defend herself. There would be ample time for killing soon enough. For now, she was content to let the old wolf set the pace.

If her passivity confused the human, he gave no sign. His posture remained relaxed until there were only a few yards separating them. Although he tried to disguise it, she noticed the slight tensing of his shoulders as he shifted his weight to his back foot. When he abruptly launched himself towards her, she was more than ready. Everything about her opponent seemed slow and unwieldy. It was as if he were running at her through a field of deep mud. She only moved when his sword came hurtling towards her head in a glittering arc.

It was a simple thing to step out of the way. She angled her body to one side like a stalk of wheat bent by a powerful breeze. The sword whistled past her ear and the old wolf let out a bark of surprise at the sudden evasion. To his credit, he recovered more quickly than she would have expected. Turning the awkward momentum of his failed attack into a half-pivot, the human whipped his blade around into a quick thrust at her face. She took a step backwards in order to avoid being skewered.

Her own blade flashed forward to cut at his metal shell, but the human lowered his shield in time to catch her sword before it could strike. Shoving her back with the broad face of the shield, he advanced forward and lifted his sword over his shoulder. The old wolf had strong arms that could generate a great deal of force. Rather than match that power directly, she impeded it before it could gather completely. Her sword flicked up and caught his blade before he could bring it down in an arc. Diverting his weapon to the side, she spun in place and hammered her left elbow into his cheek.

The human grunted at the impact and rammed his shield forward out of reflex. The edge of it caught her in the ribs. There was no pain that could touch her through the layers of the Cold, but it was enough to drive some of the wind from her lungs. She retreated several yards out of prudence and watched as her opponent collected himself. There was a new wariness in his eyes. It was more than simple respect for an opponent; it was a cautious uncertainty that told her that he was beginning to recognize that something was out of place. There was no true fear yet, but that was something that would soon change.

She circled to one side and felt the Cold rise up in response to her anticipation. Rather than echo his earlier aggression, the old wolf seemed content to remain on the defensive. He kept his shield raised out in front of himself so that she would have no choice to engage it before she could strike at his body. Between his metal shell and the barrier of his shield, attacking him was a difficult proposition. It was be akin to laying siege to a fortress. He may not be able to harm her from such a defensive posture, but there was little she could do to harm him in turn.

But a fortress was nothing without its foundation. Take away the supports, and even the sturdiest of structures may crumble. The rhythmic thump of the music rose in pitch as if it approved of her line of reasoning. It was time to start killing.

Deliberation concluded, she pivoted to one side and hurled her sword at the human's face. It was a quick, sidearm toss that sent the weapon careening wildly through the air. She meant it as a distraction, and there were few things that demanded one's attention like an airborne blade. As soon as the weapon left her hand, she shot forward like a loosed arrow to cover the distance between them.

The human's eyes widened in surprise. His shield came up at the last moment to intercept the thrown sword. The reflexive action saved him from mutilation, but it also blinded him for a handful of crucial seconds. It was all the time she needed.

She reached him a bare instant after her sword impacted with the wooden face of his shield. Dropping down to the polished cobblestones below, she used the momentum from her charge to slide the last few feet so that she was practically lying beneath him. Her legs scissored upwards to hook around both sides of his left thigh. Grabbing hold of his ankle with both hands, she violently wrenched her entire body to the right like a snake that had just caught hold of a mouse.

The crowd of humans all started squawking as she brought the old wolf down in a clang of metal. Surprise or instinctual response caused him to drop his own sword in order to break his fall. She used his momentary surprise to her advantage. Keeping her hands locked tightly around his ankle, she wrenched the limb with her upper body while leaning her weight against his knee joint. The human let out a startled yelp of pain as the pressure grew unbearable. His armor reinforced the vulnerable area enough so that she was unable to properly destroy the limb. However, a small popping sound told her that something had given way.

The music suddenly erupted into a piercing shriek. It was an unspoken warning that compelled her muscles to act. Releasing the human's leg completely, she launched herself away in a tight roll. No sooner had she done so that the point of the old wolf's shield slammed into the ground in the space her head had occupied a moment before.

By chance rather than intention, her sword had sunk edge-first into the banded wood of his shield, and now the hilt was right in front of her face. Lifting a hand, she yanked the weapon free before increasing the distance between them with another roll. Satisfied that the human was not pursing an attack, she rose to her feet in an efficient motion.

The old wolf got up much more slowly. Using his shield for support, he blindly groped for his sword's hilt without ever taking his eyes off of her. He made efforts to conceal his injury as he stood up, but there was no way to hide the obvious reluctance to place weight on his left leg.

This fight was over. That injury would be the death of him.

Quicker than a thought, she darted forward to press her advantage. There was no need to be cautious any longer. She lashed out with short, harassing slashes that were intended to bait the slower human out of his defensive position. There was no challenge in this. Hampered by his injury, the brutish creature was hard pressed to fend off her assault. He could neither maneuver easily nor put his weight behind any counterattacks. Each parry he made came just a little slower than the last.

They might have continued in this vein for some time were it not for a slight stumble. It was not a major error; the old wolf simply overbalanced after deflecting one of her blows. His injured leg buckled as he tried to right himself. It may have well have been an invitation to end his life.

She took it.

Her kick impacted against his injured knee with a dull crunch. The joint bent outwards at a sickly angle and a howl of agony tore itself from the human's throat. Unable to support his weight on only one leg, he collapsed onto his good side like a felled tree.

The music swelled into a crescendo. Her downed opponent raised his sword as if to ward her off, but it was a token gesture. With a causal flick of her arm, she brought her own blade up to slash the inside of his forearm. His metal shell was vulnerable there. The coat of metal rings he was wearing did little to impede the progress of the enchanted sword as it gouged all the way to the bone. Blood spurted across the stone floor as she tore the blade from his flesh.

His sword clattered to the floor. The old wolf was crippled and toothless. She watched without any particular interest as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Staring up at her through long hair that was damp with sweat, he bared his teeth at her as if trying to make a threat. His lips moved, shaping words that were clearly intended for her ears. After listening to him babble for a few moments, she lifted her sword and buried it in his skull.

The blade made a hollow, sucking sound as it clove through bone and reached the meat inside. Placing her foot against his shoulder, she used the additional leverage to yank the weapon free. The old wolf slumped backwards and promptly went into a fit. The metal shell he was wearing rattled loudly as his limbs seized and shook in the final tremors of life.

No longer interested in the corpse, she let her sword dangle at her side and took some time to lose herself in the sound of the music. It was a thing of immeasurable beauty, and she had never heard it sound finer. The warm notes of victory and death were sound profoundly realized that she could almost register them as a presence. It swirled around her and brushed long, intangible fingers along her form as though she were a prized pet.

The Cold swelled in response to the touch. Icy indifference smoothed over any lingering emotions to leave her in a state of utter peace. Head lolling on her shoulders, she barely noticed as those thin fingers wrapped around her upper arms in a guiding embrace.

_Wonderfully Done. Things Are Better Now._ Dry lips brushed against her ear as a sonorous voice whispered its congratulations. Lost in the Cold, she did not have the presence of mind to wonder at the nature of this presence. She nodded in unthinking agreement. The fingers around her arms tightened. She felt her chin being gripped, and then her head was forcibly steered so that she was staring out at the crowd of humans. The same voice laughed softly. _You Killed One of Them. Why Stop?_

There was no good reason. The voice made a compelling argument that she could hardly refute. This time, she did not need the music to grant her a purpose. She would kill until there was nothing left in this world aside from herself. It would be much better then.

The fingers released her and she immediately started forward in the direction of her audience. At first, the brutish creatures did not seem to understand her intention. As she drew closer however, she had the satisfaction of watching their eyes grow wide with panic. Some of the ones in front began to push backwards as though they might flee from her. The notion was ridiculous. Death might be delayed, but there was no true escape.

She had just raised her sword to kill the first of them when the pressure began. Bands of invisible force suddenly constricted around every inch of her body like a second skin. The slightest motion became impossibility. She strained her muscles, but the force only increased in direct response to her efforts.

Displeased by this setback, it took her some time to realize that several of the humans now approached with a respectful degree of caution. Some of them carried weapons, but they were not holding them in a manner that suggested threat. The urge to kill them was very powerful.

One of these pitiable specimens walked toward her with a circle of metal clasped in its hands. This human was even older than the one she had just killed. She could smell the sour reek of its fear as it moved closer and lifted the object in its hands.

Long, ghostly fingers plunged through her skin and into her chest. It was as though something was attempting to burrow inside. The Cold exploded inside her and she heard that same voice magnified to a deafening degree. _Kill This One. Kill It Before It Can Touch You._

Her body acted without her prompting. The hand holding her sword began to twitch and jerk as her muscles fought against the confining pressure on their own accordance. The old human paused at this small motion before reaching out to fasten the metal circle about her neck.

_No. Act Now. Kill Her._

She tried to obey the command that hammered against her mind. Every measure of her will was devoted to somehow breaking free from the invisible bindings that kept her trapped. The old human started murmuring in a language that dripped with power. The Cold fluctuated wildly as if it were going to tear her apart from the inside. There was no pain, but the sheer intensity of the sensation was threatening to become overwhelming.

_I Command You to Act. Kill Her Before She Breaks—_

Electricity crackled along her skin and suddenly the voice was gone. The music broke off with a screeching howl before disintegrating into nothing. The Cold linger for a moment longer before it also began to melt away into nothing. Even her mind seemed to retreat backwards. It was as though she were being tugged from her body by an irresistible force. There was no fighting it. She felt herself drift further away until both sound and light disappeared.

Then, she slept.

...

xxXxx

* * *

Whoa, sorry about disappearing for two months. I ran into a real life crisis that derailed me for a while and then it was time to do my thesis. I won't make any predictions for the next chapter because clearly that is the easiest way to jinx myself. I will say that my thesis is now miraculously complete and I have a bunch of spare time on my hands. So, I hope to have the next chapter out in an undefined, but relatively quick amount of time :)

Thanks a bunch to my beta Gorg for patiently helping me with this chapter. If it pleases you to leave a review, I always enjoy hearing everyone's thoughts. More thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story through the long hiatus!

Till next time.


	44. Unsubstantiated Rumors

**A/N:** Thanks to my wonderful beta Gorg for providing some very helpful perspective on this chapter.

Chapter 44: Unsubstantiated Rumors

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

…

_Kallian was not sure where she was. The ground beneath her hands and knees was hard and as warm as living skin. When she lifted her head to the sky, she was greeted by something entirely unfamiliar. Instead of blue or grey, she beheld a roiling miasma of yellow clouds. There was a curious taste to the air, like sulfur mixed with the oily presence of burning fat._

"_It is not very pleasant, is it?"_

_The voice came from behind her. Feeling oddly calm in spite of the alien setting, Kallian began the laborious task of standing up. Every inch of her body felt like it made of lead. There was no pain, but her limbs were stiff and awkward. She nearly pitched over twice before finally managing to rise to her feet. As soon as she was able, she pivoted so that she could face the speaker._

_She was not surprised to find herself staring at her doppelganger. Kallian had been having this dream for too long to think it strange. As always, the likeness wasn't perfect. The fake Kallian was oddly proportioned as though it had been stretched and elongated by some terrible force. They stood opposite of each other on what appeared to be a floating island of orange rock. Queer protrusions of twisted stone dotted the small space like whimsical stalagmites. Kallian took this in with a single glance before turning her attention back to her reflection. "It's shit."_

"_Imagine living here for an eternity. It grows tiresome."_

_Kallian shrugged. "I'll bet."_

"_Thankfully, it will not be long before I can leave this place." Her doppelganger swept a delicate, long-fingered hand out to encompass their bizarre surroundings. "Things will be much better for me then. I imagine you won't enjoy it quite as much, but that cannot be helped."_

"_What won't I be enjoying?"_

"_A triumph that has been a long time in coming. Think of it as a grand unification between the two of us. I make it sound very ominous, but I suppose that it you could consider it to be a mutually beneficial occurrence. After all, you will get your victory..." The creature leaned closer and Kallian could see a trickle of blood slowly dribbling from one of its nostrils. "...and I'll get mine."_

_Kallian was not sure what to make of that, but she was too tired to give a damn. "Neat, is this the part where you say a bunch of cryptic shit and then disappear? I can pretend to be all baffled and amazed if that gets you going."_

_Her doppelganger smiled to reveal a mouthful of red-tinged teeth. Kallian could smell the musty scent of decay on its breath. "You are an amusing creature, elfling. It will be a shame to see you gone."_

"_Thanks." Kallian rolled her eyes at the drama of it all. Was it just her, or was this entire thing played out by now? "Since you're feeling chatty, what the fuck are you?"_

"_Something old, something angry." Blood began to spill from its eyes in thin streams to join the ribbons that were pouring out of the creature's ears and drooling from its lips. In seconds, Kallian found herself talking to the world's most morbid fountain. "Something that wants what was promised long ago."_

_Kallian stared at the grisly visage in front of her. "Formoire?"_

"_A name. One of many."_

"_But that's what you are, isn't it?"_

_The creature laughed, a sound that was void of anything approaching humor. It was like listening to dried reeds scrap together; the sound sending shivers along her spine. "You shall find out soon enough, elfling."_

"_Why not now? You're some kind of badass demon, right? I'm here and you're here, so why don't you just cut the dramatic bullshit and get it over with?"_

"_There is a time for everything." The creature's words came garbled through its mouthful of blood. "The pieces are in place, but where is the catalyst? Rest assured, elfling, I will take what is owed in due time. Better yet, you will help me."_

"_I wouldn't count on it."_

_The doppelganger shimmered and began to fade. "We shall see, elfling. We shall see."_

_Kallian tried to reach out to detain the spirit, but her own limbs still felt impossibly heavy. A strong force seemed to catch her by the nape of the neck, and then she was suddenly jerked backwards and into the air. The roaring sound of rushing air filled her ears as she pulled up and away from the lonely island._

…

…

xxXxx

…

She woke up thirsty.

It was the most immediate sensation in her mind. Without even opening her eyes, she tried to part her lips only to find them stuck together like the folds of a sealed envelope. Groaning unhappily, she ran her dry tongue against her teeth and worked her jaw until her lips were pried apart. An aching pain blossomed behind her eyes at the slight motion, and she tried to lift her hand to rub at them only to be met with resistance. Something was wrapped around her wrist that prevented any significant motion.

Kallian's eyelids cracked open in confusion. Lifting her head off the pillow, she peered down the length of her body and saw something that woke her up instantly. Thick restraints made from padded leather encircled each of her wrists and ankles. She was bound to the bed beneath her like an animal caught in a trap.

The panic reared up thick and ugly. Heart hammering, she thrashed against the restraints with every ounce of strength in her body. Her throat closed up and it became difficult to breath, but that did not stop her from trying to scream. The sound pushed past her cracked lips as a dull wheeze. Spots of color exploded across her vision and her struggles became even more desperate as she felt herself slipping back into darkness.

"Kallian!"

She barely registered the feeling of warm hands cupping her face. The bed dipped as someone else placed their weight on the mattress. It trigged on old memory that did nothing for her state of mind. Kallian flinched from the touch as much as she was able and tried to buck her body away. A loud crash of shattering pottery reached her ears as something nearby was knocked over.

"Kallian, it's me. It's me. You're alright." A soft voice, urgent and frightened made its way to her ears. Those warm hands were stroking over her face and hair as if they were trying to smother a fire. "I don't know what to do! Please, you must calm down!"

Kallian drew a shuddering gasp through her nose and went limp. The panic attack had sucked all the strength from her muscles to leave her feeling weak. Gradually, the spots clouding her vision cleared as she drew more and more oxygen into her lungs. Blinking against the sweat that was streaming down into her eyes, Kallian looked up to see Leliana's face a few inches away from her own.

"Kallian? Is that you?" Leliana sounded tentative, as if there was some kind of doubt. "Tell me that it's you."

She opened her mouth to try to respond, but all that did make her cough. Her throat felt like it had been scoured by grains of sand. As soon as she had gotten control of herself, she found herself confronted by the rim of a mug. Leliana's hand moved to support her head as the other woman tipped the water toward her. "Small sips, Kallian. Take it slow."

Too baffled and exhausted to do anything other than obey, Kallian dutifully took tiny gulps of water. It proved to be the sweetest thing she had ever tasted. Each sip soothed her parched throat and seemed to bring a new strength with it. Kallian kept drinking until she had drained the entire glass. Releasing a few more coughs as she finished, she looked up at the Orlesian woman above her. "L-Leliana? What the shit?"

"Thank the Maker." Leliana's entire body slumped forward as if she were suddenly boneless. Leaning down to touch her forehead to Kallian's, she drew a long breath and let it out as a whisper. "You're back. Oh, thank whoever."

A quick look around revealed that the two of them were in Arl Eamon's estate. It was Kallian's room, and she was dressed in white bedclothes that were a few sizes too large. A clay pitcher of water was resting on the bedside table, and given the scattered shards of pottery that were next to it, she assumed that her thrashing had knocked over one of the cups. Judging by the bright sunlight that was steaming through the window, she guessed it was midmorning.

Looking back at Leliana, Kallian tried to focus. She jerked her wrist so that the leather restraint pulled taut against the bedframe. Giving it a significant look, she forced her mouth to form words. "Can you take these off of me? Please?"

"Yes, just a moment." Leliana's hands were shaking as she fumbled with the leather tie of the first restraint. She seemed to be having trouble taking her eyes off of Kallian's face as she hurried to free her. "Are you okay? You seem okay."

Kallian sighed in relief as her wrist came free. Immediately moving to untie the thong around her other arm, she shot a furtive glance up at Leliana. "Sure, I'm good. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

With Leliana's help, Kallian was soon entirely free of her bonds. She flexed her arms and legs in order to rid herself of the memory of the restraints and then pushed herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Leliana moved to hover over her like the worried parent of a sick child. Still struggling to comprehend what was going on, Kallian pulled herself together enough to offer a weak smile in the bard's direction. "That was a hell of way to wake up."

Leliana sank down on the mattress beside her and reached out with one hand only to stop short of actually touching Kallian. Pausing, the bard looked at her. "Can I…?"

Kallian responded to the uncertain question by leaning over to embrace Leliana around her middle. She was still shaken up and the offer of comfort was more than appreciated. Leliana's strong arms gripped her tightly as they leaned into one another. Kallian could feel the tension slowly drain from her muscles. Leliana's embrace brought with a sense of security that helped to chase away the remnants of her panic attack. Smiling as she felt the gentle press of lips against her hair, she murmured a belated greeting. "It's good to see you too."

"Better than good." Leliana's voice came out thick and heavily accented. "I've spent the last week wondering if you would ever wake up. This is absolutely wonderful."

Kallian's eyes snapped open. "Week?"

"Six days if you want to be exact. Wynne was starting to worry that you would starve before we could wake you."

"The Darkspawn—"

"—Are three days march from Denerim." Leliana answered the unfinished question in a choked voice. Her arms tightened around Kallian's rib in a grip that was almost painful. "I know you have questions, but let them wait for a moment. I want to be certain that this is really happening before I let you go."

There was something in the way her voice trembled that kept Kallian from protesting. Leliana sounded as though she was on the verge of tears, and Kallian assumed that the other woman needed a moment to gather herself. Without pulling away from Leliana's hold, she moved a hand up to gently massage one of Leliana's shoulders in an effort to provide some type of comfort. It was hard to say what Leliana might be feeling, but if their positions were reversed, Kallian imagined she would be several kinds of upset.

After nearly a minute of this, Leliana inhaled a deep breath and drew back until they were able to see each other's faces. She studied Kallian for a moment before easing into a tired smile. "You are a very difficult person to care about. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No, but my dad always told me that he was going to make sure that I ended up with a patient husband. I think that's pretty much the same thing." Kallian tried to push herself off of the edge of the bed and found that her limbs were not responding in the manner that they should. She wobbled on her feet and would have collapsed backwards if Leliana had not risen to support her. Tossing the other woman a sheepish look, Kallian swayed in place as she tried to orient herself. "Heh, that was a bad idea."

"Perhaps being in a week-long coma might warrant some more caution."

"I'll go ahead and agree." Kallian lowered herself back down with Leliana's help. She waited until she was seated firmly on the mattress before continuing. "As long as I'm inconveniencing you, do you mind getting me some more water? My mouth has never been as dry as it is right now."

Leliana nodded and then moved over to the end table. "You seemed confused. Do you remember what happened?"

It was a good question and one that Kallian realized she did not have answer too. Thinking hard for a moment, she tried to bring her last coherent memory to mind. There was a vague notion of a dream she had been having, but nothing substantial. Finally, she just settled on the only thing she could definitively recall. "I remember preparing to fight the duel with Loghain. Since we're having this talk, I'm guessing that I won."

"Yes, you certainly did." Leliana shot Kallian an indecipherable look as she lifted the pitcher to pour a fresh glass of water. "And Alistair is now the king. You missed his coronation by a few days."

"I can live with that. I've never been much for long ceremonies full of boring speeches."

"It was actually very brief. He's been running himself ragged lately with organizing the defenses and coordinating the evacuation." She finished filling the mug and offered it to Kallian. Accepting it eagerly, Kallian took a sip before replying.

"Evacuation?"

"Of the city. Almost every person capable of fighting has been conscripted, but everyone else has left for the northern refugee camps." Leliana sat down next to her. "Your family is among them. Alistair's first act as king was to order the evacuation of the Alienage."

Kallian felt some relief at the news. If a battle was to be fought, it was good to know her father and cousins would be safe from harm. "Do they know what happened to me?"

Leliana nodded. "They tried to stop by in order to see you, but Alistair did not think it was a good idea. Your father argued for some time, but they all left for the camps yesterday morning. The city is practically deserted save for the soldiers and conscripted workers."

"Alistair stopped them from visiting?" Kallian blinked in confusion. "Why?"

Leliana's lips pursed together and she seemed to consider her words before she spoke them. "He was trying to save them the pain of seeing you as you were. Believe me when I say that visiting you would not have been a comfort."

Before Kallian could respond to that concerning statement, the sound of voices rose up from somewhere beyond the door. The voices grew louder as the speakers drew near, and Kallian soon recognized Alistair's distinctive voice. A bare instant later, the door flung open as he burst into the room. He was so engaged in his conversation that he did not even spare a glance in Kallian's direction. "—I'm not saying that we should stop trying, I'm saying that we need to do something different. She nearly killed me last time we removed the damn thing, and I don't think there's any point in endangering ourselves by doing it over and over again. That's just stupid."

Kallian raised a brow as she took in her fellow Warden's appearance. Alistair was dressed in a white doublet that had been liberally embroidered with golden thread. Along with the matching trousers, he looked like some type of fairy tale prince. The entire effect may have been somewhat garish, but Kallian thought it suited him well enough.

"What I am suggesting is not stupid; it is the way that medicine works." Wynne's voice drifted in through the open doorway. She sounded irritated as though she were trying to explain something to a dimwitted child. "I'm coming a little closer to understanding this condition each time we remove the Aegis. Barring some new development, trial and error is the most I can do for her."

"Look, I'm not comfortable with this. She's incredibly dangerous to be around. " Alistair turned toward the bed and swept out a hand. "And furthermore, it's not like Kallian is going to just wake up all of a sudden just because—"

Kallian waved at him. "Hey."

Even though Kallian was dehydrated, confused, and rapidly becoming aware of just how hungry she was, it proved very difficult to avoid laughing at the look Alistair gave her. It was almost as entertaining as watching Wynne poke her head through the doorway only to start gaping like a landed fish. At first, no one moved or said anything, and then Leliana let out a low cough that might have been masking a laugh. It was enough to kick Alistair into motion. Bounding forward like an overexcited Mabari, the new King of Ferelden skidded to a halt at the foot of the bed. "Kallian! You're awake!"

"Sure am." She was surprised to find that seeing Alistair made her feel better. It was hard to say when she had started seeing him as a close friend, but there was no denying the fact that she was glad to have him here. Raising both of her brows, she indicated his clothing with a nod of her head. "You're looking fancy, Your Highness."

Alistair's smile grew wider as he self-consciously patted the front of his coat. "Ok, so you wake up after sleeping for a week and immediately start to mock me. Real nice."

"I can't help it, you are very bright."

Wynne pushed her way Alistair and immediately sat down next to Kallian. Lifting her hands, she placed two fingers along the underside of Kallian's jaw and tilted her head upwards. "The jokes can wait a moment, you two. Let me look her over before we start smiling. Kallian, this is going to tingle."

Kallian winced as an odd numbness started to radiate outwards from the places where Wynne's fingers were touching her skin. It felt like thousands of bugs were crawling along her face. "Good to see you too, Wynne."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You know that I'm overjoyed to have you back with us. After the week I've had, you'll have to forgive me for being curt." Wynne drew her fingers away from Kallian's neck and the uncomfortable tingling stopped at once. "The last thing I want is for you to crash again because I missed something. Thankfully, the Aegis seems secure. Let's check your vitals while we are at it."

"Sure, let's go ahead and do that."

"Alistair, would you be a dear and have a servant bring Kallian some thin broth? Nothing but stock and some soft vegetables; we don't want to stress her system." Wynne paused a moment and seemed to consider something. Giving Alistair a significant look, she continued in a slightly hushed voice. "And perhaps you should send a missive to Morrigan in regards to that other matter."

Alistair's brow furrowed, and then smoothed as understanding lit his eyes. "Not a bad idea, I'll be right back."

Kallian watched him as he left the room. Turning to Wynne, she cocked a brow. "What was that all about?"

"Getting you something to eat. Given your typical attitude toward food, I imagine you must be ravenous." Wynne concentrated for a several seconds before dropping Kallian's wrist. She then moved her hand so that it was hovering over Kallian's breast. Green light gathered around her palm and then trailed down into Kallian's torso in a series of swirling columns. Kallian braced herself for more tingling, but the green light did not feel like much of anything.

Leliana cleared her throat to get Wynne's attention. "I was just telling Kallian what has happened why she was ill."

"I'd hardly call it an illness, but I suppose the distinction is not very important." Wynne lifted her hand away and the green light dissipated. "Are you feeling unusual in any way? Headaches? Soreness? Nausea?"

Kallian shrugged. "I'm thirsty and I nearly fell over when I tried to stand up."

"That's to be expected really. You will be surprised how much better you feel after you get some nourishment inside of you." The mage offered Kallian a wan smile. "Well, I see nothing wrong with the Aegis and you seem relatively healthy. It's better than I might expect."

"From someone who was in a coma, you mean?"

"Describing your state as catatonic would not be accurate. While you were largely unresponsive, there were periods in which you were ambulatory and displayed cognitive awareness." Wynne motioned for Kallian to drink from the mug she was holding. "I would be more inclined to say that you underwent a prolonged and severe mental episode of indeterminate cause."

Kallian took a sip of water and stared at Wynne blankly. "You just used a whole bunch of words that I don't understand."

"That's probably because I am trying to disguise my own ignorance on the matter. Truth be told, there really isn't a word to describe what you were experiencing. The only thing I've learned about your condition is that I know absolutely nothing about it. Regardless, it looked for a moment like you might die of starvation."

"No kidding?" The notion that she almost died did not bother Kallian as much as it probably should have. After spending the last few months narrowly avoiding death in one form or another, the entire prospect had lost some of its mystique. "But I thought you said I was umbulatory or whatever?"

"Ambulatory." The mage corrected smoothly. "It means you were moving around. Unfortunately, that proved to be more of a problem than anything else."

"Why would that be a—"

She abandoned her question as Alistair reentered the room. He was still grinning like a fool as he jerked a nod in Wynne's direction. "The food is on the way. Is Kallian going to be ok?"

"Well enough. Although I imagine she must have some questions for us all."

Kallian nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I sure do. Maybe we could start with what happened in the duel?"

The three humans shared a look that made Kallian feel a bit uncomfortable. It was the same type of look that might be exchanged when people are preparing to discuss something unsavory. After a moment, Alistair shrugged his shoulders and replied in a tone that was too casual. "Long story short: you killed Loghain and then charged the assembled nobles afterwards. Morrigan stopped you before you could do anything violent, and Wynne managed to slap that necklace on while you were immobilized."

"I attacked the people in the crowd?" Kallian wasn't sure whether she was amused or horrified. "I guessing that didn't go over well."

Alistair made a face. "A few of them did demand your execution, but it turns out the king has more authority than they do. Arl Eamon is still quite upset about the entire thing. He's been calling it a 'travesty' and 'a gross miscalculation'. It's apparently bad form to have a champion attempt to slaughter the spectators. Who knew?"

He was trying to make a joke out of it, but neither Leliana nor Wynne seemed to find it very funny. Kallian suspected that her actions had caused more trouble than Alistair was letting on. It made her feel guilty, but it was difficult to apologize for something that she had no recollection of doing. "Sorry, that must have caused a whole heap of shit for you."

"It wasn't great." Alistair agreed with a shrug. "But, listening to those idiot nobles prattle on is totally worth getting control of Ferelden's army. The way I see it, Loghain needed to be stopped and you just had an unorthodox way of going about that."

Wynne rolled her eyes before addressing Kallian. "Getting back to the subject at hand, I feel as though we should be paying more attention to what transpired after your duel. The attempted murder of the spectators was bad enough, but the complications that arose with the Aegis are more concerning. My understanding is that your reaction to this recent episode is markedly different from the previous occurrences."

Kallian nodded in agreement. "This never happened before if that is what you are asking. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"I think that I might. If you recall, the Harthman Aegis is meant to sever one's connection to the Fade. It works because removing the connection seems to insulate you from whatever is causing these episodes."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, when I replaced it following the duel, the Aegis did its job. Your connection to the Fade was severed and you no longer posed a threat. The problem was that you didn't come back."

Leliana took over as Wynne paused for breath. "We grew worried after a day went by without you waking up. You were in one piece and still breathing, but nothing we did could wake you. After a while, Wynne suggested that we take the Aegis off."

Kallian winced. "That seems like a bad decision."

"It was a spectacularly bad decision, but I was afraid that you were trapped within a dream. Spending too much time in the Fade is never a good thing. My hope was that removing the collar would allow you to awaken. While it could be said that you did indeed awaken, you were not yourself."

"In what way?"

Wynne pursed her lips together. "The first thing you did was attempt to kill Alistair with his own shirt."

It was such a ludicrous statement that Kallian wondered if Wynne was joking. Smiling uncertainly, she looked between Alistair and Wynne. Neither one of them smiled back, so her mood quickly sobered. "With his shirt?

"When she says it like that it doesn't sound frightening, but you were actually having a considerable amount of success." Alistair spread his hands out to the sides. "If Leliana hadn't been in the room, things might have gone bad. Even working together, the two of us barely managed to restrain you. We had to shout for help until some of Arl Eamon's men came in."

Feeling slightly ill at the news, Kallian turned to Leliana for confirmation. The bard tilted her head forward in a faint nod. "It was a very near thing."

"No harm done, though." Alistair hurried to smooth things over with a smile. "I mean, to me at least. I did have to break your arm at one point."

Kallian felt her eyes widen. Instinctively, she held up her arms for inspection. "My arm? What the hell, Alistair?"

"You were trying to kill me. It wasn't like I wanted to go breaking your arm, but you were two seconds away from choking me to death. Besides, Wynne healed it just like new. You never even would have noticed if I hadn't said anything."

"Still…"

Wynne snapped her fingers to get their attention. "Believe me when I say that Alistair was more than justified. It was only after I had replaced the Aegis that you stopped attempting to cause us harm. This in turn resulted in a relapse of your apparent catatonia."

"Meaning?"

"You went back to sleep and stayed that way until I removed the Aegis a second time after we had properly restrained you. I intended to study you while you were experiencing an episode, but you were thrashing against the bindings with enough force that I feared you would hurt yourself. I then attempted several spells that I hoped might have an effect, but none of them enacted a noticeable change." Wynne shrugged her shoulders in a helpless movement. "I was sincerely afraid that we might have lost you."

That raised an interesting question. Kallian lifted a finger to explore the outside edge of her collar. "So, if you didn't do anything, why am I up?"

"I'm hardly in a position to answer that. As a precaution, I wish to examine the Aegis. If you awoke because it has somehow failed, then there is a risk of relapse."

"Would you be able to check it without taking it off?"

Wynne nodded. "Oh yes, I would not dare remove it. If this last week has taught us anything, it is that you must not take it off again. Until I can figure out a permanent solution to your condition, wearing that Aegis is the only safe option for you and everyone around you."

"Gotcha. No taking it off then."

A polite knock at the door signaled the arrival of Kallian's food. Alistair sprang up and strode hastily over to open the door. He stepped out before the servant could step in and exchanged several hushed sentences. A female voice responded, and then there was a slight pause before Alistair stepped back in with a tray clutched in his hands. Closing the door behind him, he made his way back to the bed and smiled at Kallian. "Here, this will help you feel more like yourself."

She took it from him with a word of thanks and a sense of anticipation. In the short time she had been at Arl Eamon's estate, she had learned that his cook was exceptional. Today, he had been good enough to prepare a bowl of chicken broth and sliced leeks that set her mouth watering as soon as the scent. A hunk of white bread was resting beside the bowl, but Kallian was certain that she was going to need more food. If she were along in the room, she would have grabbed the bowl with both hands and downed it in a single go. As it was, she picked up the spoon and began to eat as quickly as she could.

Wynne caught her wrist to halt the spoon's rapid movements. "For the Maker's sake, Kallian, would you take a breath between bites? Your stomach hasn't had anything in it for a long time. Go slow until you are sure that you can handle it."

Flushing in embarrassment at the motherly rebuke, Kallian swallowed her mouthful of soup and nodded. "I'm going to need more of this."

"Hmm, finish that and we'll see how you feel."

If Kallian was capable of concerning herself with anything but food at the moment, she might have noted that it was a bit weird to have three humans standing around watching her eat. As it was, she briefly forgot about them until Alistair coughed loudly.

"So, this is going to seem a touch strange," he shifted on his feet and cast a strangled smile in Leliana's direction. "But do you suppose that Wynne and I could speak with Kallian privately for a little while? It wouldn't be much longer than a half-hour or so."

Kallian paused in the midst of raising her spoon and looked up to see Leliana regarding Alistair with a small frown. The bard folded her arms and replied in a frosty sort of tone. "Right now? Alistair, she just woke up after spending a week in bed. Whatever this is, I'm sure it can wait a few hours."

"I know, I know. Trust me when I say that this is important and time sensitive."

"And I cannot stay?"

Alistair looked to Wynne for support. "It's regarding a Grey Warden secret. Really, I shouldn't even be involving Wynne, but since the Order doesn't have any healers left, she's the only one I can trust."

"It's a delicate matter, I can assure you of that much." Wynne looked uncomfortable as she spoke. "I think Kallian should hear what Alistair has to say as soon as possible. Besides, I'm sure she could use some time to eat and recover her strength. She can do both while she's listening to Alistair."

Kallian felt a prickle of unease. There many different kinds of liars, and Wynne was a bad one. It could not have been clearer that she was purposefully holding something back. The shrewd look that Leliana was giving Wynne told Kallian that she wasn't the only one who thought this was suspicious.

She set down her spoon. Alistair and Wynne had never lied to her before, and it made her nervous enough to want Leliana in the room. "It's fine if Leliana stays. I don't mind sharing anything with her."

Alistair looked pained. "I can appreciate that, but this is about secret information about the Grey Wardens. I get that this is out of the ordinary, but I swear that I am trying to do what is best for everyone. So, could the two of you please just give me the benefit of the doubt?"

Kallian glanced at Leliana to see what the other woman thought about that. For a moment it looked as though Leliana would protest further, but then she shrugged as if the entire thing did not bother her. "Very well, I suppose I need to take a bath in any case. It's been some time since I've had one." She rose from the bed and turned to face Kallian. Lifting a hand, she glided her fingers across Kallian's cheek. "Come find me once you have finished. There's much we have to say to each other."

Confused by the sudden turn, Kallian reached up and caught hold of Leliana's wrist. "You don't have to go."

"It's alright, Kallian. I've waited a week to speak with you, I can wait just a little longer."

With a warm smile that tugged at Kallian's heart, Leliana pulled her hand away and made for the doorway. She patted Alistair's shoulder on the way out; a small act that Kallian supposed was meant to signify that there were no hard feelings. Alistair mumbled a half-formed apology and seemed to relax slightly as Leliana exited the room.

Kallian lifted the bowl of soup to her lips and downed it in three gulps. Wynne made a noise of protest, but Kallian did not give a damn. If people were going to be all secretive, then she was going to eat her soup in any way she pleased. It was childish, but Kallian was in a bad mood and food would help. Setting the empty bowl aside, she gave Alistair an expecting look. "Ok, so what's the deal?"

"Uh, just hold on for a minute."

"Why? What are we waiting for?"

As if in direct answer to her question, someone knocked softly against the closed door. It opened a moment later and Morrigan slipped into the room without waiting for an invitation. The witch was clad in her patchy, leather robes, and she was wearing a slight frown that eased when her eyes met Kallian's. Smiling a sharp sort of smile, Morrigan walked over to the bed and stood next to Alistair. "Good afternoon. It gladdens me to see that you are recovered."

"Yeah, thanks." Kallian gave her a searching look. "Were you waiting out there or something?"

Alistair cleared his throat hastily. "Actually, Morrigan is pretty much at the center of what we are going to talk about."

"I thought this was about some Grey Warden secret?"

"It is, technically speaking." He moved to rest against the edge of Kallian's writing desk. "I'm really not sure where to begin with this, so I guess I might as well start from the beginning. You remember that Grey Warden we found in Howe's estate? He woke up while you were unconscious."

"No shit? I thought he was supposed to die."

"He is dead." Alistair's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Passed away less than a day after he woke up."

Wynne shook her head and began to elaborate. "It was an infection in his blood. I doubt it would have been a problem if he hadn't been exposed to so much healing magic during his torture. He was suffering from magical strain, so when I tried to flush the infection out of his system, his heart ruptured. Magic or no, there's little I could do for him at that point."

It was not good news, but Kallian couldn't understand the fuss. They had known the man was in bad way ever since Alistair had brought him in. "Did he say anything about why he was here?"

"His name was Riordan, and he was part of the Orlesian chapter of the Wardens. He was meant to investigate the Blight, but Loghain assumed that he was acting as a spy for Orlais. That was what prompted the kidnapping and torture." Alistair stated all of this in a resigned monotone that made him sound very tired. "It was hard to understand most of what he told us. The fever made him delirious, and he had a pretty thick accent on top of that. However, in one of his more lucid moments, he managed to tell me something about the Blight that I didn't know. Something that concerns the two of us."

"Let's hear it."

Alistair took a breath. "It turns out that the Grey Wardens play a bigger role in combating the Blight than I knew. The Joining Ritual does more than make us immune to the Taint; it makes it so that we are capable of killing the Archdemon. In fact, _only _Grey Wardens have the capacity to truly kill the Archdemon."

"What do you mean by 'truly'?"

"From what I gather, the Archdemon is a being of energy as much as it is a creature of flesh and bone. Although it chooses to appear as a dragon, the truth is that the Old Gods weren't picky when it came to their bodies. While anyone might destroy the Archdemon's physical form, there is not a direct way to destroy its soul. Even if we managed to kill it, the Archdemon would transfer its energy to the nearest thing that it has a direct connection to."

Kallian experienced a jolt as she realized where this was going. "If the Archdemon can control the Darkspawn, does that mean…?"

"Yes, it would be capable of possessing any single Darkspawn in its army."

"Fuck."

Alistair nodded in response to her sentiment. "Which is where the two of us come in. Thanks to the Taint in our blood, we seem enough like Darkspawn that the Archdemon would try to transfer to one of us if we were close enough when it died. The catch is that it wouldn't be a perfect fit. Because we aren't Darkspawn, the transfer would be disastrous for the Archdemon. That's the only way we can destroy its soul."

It sounded just a little too good to be true. Kallian chewed at the inside of her lip as she stared back at Alistair. "I'm guessing there's more to this than just that."

"There is. While that will kill the Archdemon and end the Blight, it isn't without a price." Alistair hesitated for a long moment before giving Kallian an uncommonly serious look. "That transfer wouldn't just be fatal to the Archdemon, but also to the Warden who experienced it."

She did not feel the impact of those words immediately. It took several seconds for a cold feeling to settle in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed around the instinctual protest that rose up in throat and managed to scratch out a confirmation. "One of us has to die."

"Well, that would be the case," Morrigan spoke up in an amused drawl. "But you are fortunate enough to call me a friend."

Still overwhelmed by Alistair's revelation, Kallian stared at Morrigan without comprehending what had been said. After a few beats, Alistair decided to help her. "Morrigan has offered us a different solution to this problem. It would allow us to kill the Archdemon without putting ourselves at risk. I'll let her explain."

Morrigan looked very pleased with herself. "Essentially, what we will do involves luring the Archdemon's essence into a specific receptacle. My mother's grimoire details a certain ritual for binding the anima of entities such as the Old Gods. What I propose is that we direct the Archdemon's energy into a vessel that can safely house it."

Kallian blinked stupidly. "What could do that?"

"An unborn child, conceived on the eve of battle." Morrigan glanced over at Alistair. "The ritual demands that the sire be a Grey Warden. I would be the one carrying it."

Those words helped shake Kallian out of her daze. Glancing between Alistair and Morrigan, she felt a strong sense of disgust. "Wow, that is entirely fucked up."

"'Tis the most desirable outcome."

"How could you possibly think that is desirable?" Kallian looked at the three humans in stark disbelief. What they were suggesting was so repellent that she could not even believe they had considered it. Glaring hard at Morrigan, she spat out her next words. "You want to put the Archdemon inside of a baby? What is the matter with you?"

Alistair waved his hands as if to pacify her. "It wouldn't be like that, Kallian. The child won't be tainted."

"Fuck everything about that. If taking down the Archdemon would kill one of us, I don't even want to know what it would do to a baby."

"You are being unnecessarily dramatic in spite your ignorance on the subject." Morrigan rolled her eyes and released a longsuffering sigh. "No harm would come to the child. It would simply be born with the essence of an Old God contained within its body. Some might even call that a blessing."

"Or, they might say it's one hell of a curse." Kallian responded hotly. "You read about this in a book, Morrigan. There's no telling what could happen to this kid if we go through with this."

"My mother was many things, but she was never wrong when it came to magic. Her grimoire states that the child will be born healthy and with its own sense of identity. Performing this ceremony will expunge the Archdemon with a minimal loss of life."

"Yeah? And what happens to the kid after it is born?"

Morrigan smiled. "I shall raise it. Fear not, the child will be cared for to the best of my ability."

Kallian swung her head to stare at Alistair. "You are okay with this?"

"Morrigan showed me the spell she was referring to. It seems like she is telling us the truth of the matter." Alistair worked his jaw a few times as he mulled over his next words. "I haven't decided anything because I wanted to discuss this with you, Kallian. It's our decision to make. That's why I pressed to tell you so soon. The Darkspawn will be here in a handful of days and I think it's only fair that you have as much time as possible to give this consideration."

Kallian attempted to calm down and look at things rationally. It proved to be much harder than she would have thought. Her emotions were running high from the sudden downpour of bad news, and the urge to lash out at something was strong. Taking a few deep breaths, she closed her eyes and tried to be introspective for once.

What surprised her was how much she did not want to die. Between the Grey Warden's Calling and the curse in her blood, she should have gotten used to the concept by now. But those things had always been distant threats that lacked the sting of proximity. This new misfortune was so much more immediate and it scared the hell out of her. The idea that she might never see her family again was horrible, and the thought of losing Leliana even more so. Kallian wanted so badly to just accept Morrigan's proposal. It would give her more time at the very least.

For a brief instant, the agreement rose to the tip of her tongue. The only thing that held it back was the nagging sensation in her gut that told her something was wrong. Morrigan's offer was incredibly tempting, and that made Kallian uneasy. She did not like the idea of dying, but she wondered if she would be able to live with being a part of Morrigan's plan. There was not a single part of her that did not rebel against the thought of using a child to save her own skin. Kallian had spent the last few months learning what it was like to lose control of her own mind and body. Whatever Morrigan might claim, she had a hard time imagining that this child would not suffer for harboring something as horrid as the Archdemon.

"Kallian?" Alistair's voice called her back into the moment. Opening her eyes, she glanced up at the human to see him staring down at her with a concerned expression on his face. "Look, you don't have to decide anything now. However hard the Darkspawn march, we have at least two days before they'll get here. Take that time to think about what you want to do."

She shook her head slowly. "No…no, I don't think I need two days. I know what I want to do."

"Are you certain? This isn't something we have to rush."

"Alistair, I may not be as smart as the three of you, but I have a pretty good instinct when it comes to bad ideas. I know what feels right and what feels wrong." Kallian felt her back stiffen as her resolve began to solidify in her mind. She knew what she had to do; now the only thing left was to convince Alistair not to protest. "My take on this is that Morrigan's proposal is a compromise. We signed up to fight the Darkspawn, not put them inside of kids. I say that we kill the Archdemon ourselves and accept the consequences."

Morrigan made an impatient sound. "Must I say this once more? The ritual will cause the child no harm. Both of you will live, and the threat of the Archdemon will be removed."

"I don't care, Morrigan. As far as I'm concerned, the world is better off without anything like the Archdemon in it. I won't be able to rest easy until I know that fucker is dead in every sense of the word."

"Even if that means one of us has to die along with it?" Alistair shot her a troubled look. In his eyes, she could see a hint of the same fear that was playing at her own nerves. "I'm not trying to sway you in one direction or another, but this is a serious thing, Kallian. Don't you think this warrants some consideration?"

"I didn't know Duncan as long as you did, but I got the sense that he wouldn't have questioned this for a second. That thing is pure evil and you know it. We've both touched its thoughts and those nightmares were enough to convince me." Kallian took no pride in bringing up Duncan. It was a low blow that played on Alistair's lingering guilt, but she felt it was important to make him agree with her about this. "I don't like the idea of dying any more than you do, but I won't go putting my faith in a bunch of magic that I don't understand. I didn't trust Flemeth when she was alive, and I sure as hell won't trust her diary."

"Grimoire." Morrigan ground out the word in irritation. "Alistair, this ritual is entirely legitimate. I swear to you that it will work in the manner I have described."

"I believe you." Alistair spared her a quick, sad smile before turning his attention back to Kallian. He studied her seriously for a moment and then continued. "You know, the second I heard that Riordan was awake, I felt completely certain that he would have bad news for us. This entire crusade of ours has been one stroke of bad luck after another."

Kallian folded her hands in her lap. She wasn't sure what Alistair was getting at, so she settled for a lame agreement. "It hasn't been easy."

"After all of that misery, I guess I always expected us to have a happy ending." He quirked his lip into a rueful sort of expression. "Kinda dumb, huh?"

"Since I joined up with Duncan, I've been fatally poisoned by Darkspawn blood, and now I am currently turning into a mindless murder monster." Kallian managed to smirk at him. Her voice was coming out much steadier that she felt. "I never really saw the happy ending coming."

He breathed out a laugh. "Fair point, I guess. I won't pretend that I can argue with anything you said. I suppose I knew what the right answer was before I even asked the question. If you're sure that's your decision, I'll stand by it."

Morrigan made a noise of utter disbelief. "Have you both taken leave of your senses? I'm offering you a way to live!"

"And we both appreciate that." Alistair tried to reach out to place a hand on her shoulder, but Morrigan flinched away from the touch. Although he was quick to hide it, Kallian could see that her actions hurt him. "I hate to use duty as an excuse, but Kallian is right: there's no place for the Archdemon. I'll let her make the call on this one."

Morrigan's face turned chalk-white at his words. Sweeping a stricken look between Alistair and Kallian, she opened her mouth as if to say something before apparently thinking better of it. Folding her arms across her chest, she turned so that she was facing away from them. "This is utter madness."

Alistair shot a morose look at Morrigan's back before turning to Kallian. "Well, we might as well decide who does the deed. Riordan said that the eldest Warden in the Chapter traditionally strikes the final blow. I've got almost a year on you, so I guess that's me."

"C'mon, don't be stupid." Kallian tried to give him another smile, but she could tell that this one fell short of the mark. "We all know that I'm gonna' be the one to do this."

"Kallian—"

She held up hand to stop him. "Don't. This isn't a "who-can-be-more-noble" contest. I'm going to kill the Archdemon because my time's almost up anyway. In the best case scenario, I've got a few months before I turn into a drooling lunatic or worse. I'm the obvious choice, Alistair."

"There could be a cure. You don't know that things are going to work out like that."

"Wynne? Be honest for a second. What are my chances?"

The elderly mage gazed back at Kallian calmly. "Very low. I've studied your illness for nearly a month and I still don't even know what causes it. The odds of finding you a cure before the Aegis needs to be removed are exceptionally poor."

"See? I'm in the shit no matter what happens." Kallian replied breezily, as if they were discussing the weather. "Besides, let's be realistic: if you die, Ferelden loses a king. If I die, maybe a couple dozen people even notice. You're too important, Alistair. This is my job to do."

She feared that Alistair might actually try to argue with her. Her composure was already beginning to break down in the face of what she had just agreed to, and having to convince him to let her die would have pushed her over the edge. It came as a relief when Alistair finally gave a slow nod of his head. "Alright, I hate it, but alright."

Wynne gently covered Kallian's hand with her own. "What you are doing is very brave."

Kallian shook her head, but left her hand where it was. "It's practical."

And it was practical. This was the right call to make, but that did not make it any easier. The enormity of her decision was beginning to hit her in waves of painful realization. She could feel Alistair and Wynne's eyes on her as she stared down at her lap. It made her wished that she could be alone. This would be easier if she didn't have to keep a brave face on.

Alistair visibly hesitated before asking his next question. "What about Leliana?"

His words prompted a sharp pain to tug at Kallian's heart. Clenching her jaw against the sensation, she barked out a gruff response. "Damn it, Alistair, I don't know. Look, can you all just not say anything about this? I don't want her to know about it."

"Kallian," Wynne immediately spoke up. "She won't appreciate that."

"I know, it's selfish and dumb." Kallian took her hand out from under Wynne's and tried to think of a way to explain how she was feeling. "But, I don't want it to be hanging over us for these last few days. I want to spend them saying goodbye without actually saying goodbye, you know?"

"She'll be very upset once she learns that you kept that from her."

"So, don't ever tell her. Let her think that it was unplanned. It will be better for everyone that way." Kallian could hear herself choking up a bit, and prayed that the others hadn't noticed. An awful truth confronted her and before she could stop herself, she said it out loud. "Besides, if she ever asked me not to do this, I think there's a chance I wouldn't."

Her admission was greeted with silence. Biting her lip hard in an effort to regain control, Kallian looked down at her lap and fought back the tears that were beginning to burn at the edges of her vision. Ashamed at the way she was acting, she could not bring herself to look up at her friends. After a pause, Wynne spoke up in a soothing tone. "Ok, that can be your decision to make, Kallian."

Kallian nodded jerkily. "My…uh, my family is in the camps. Do you think you could help me get a letter to them? None of them know how to read, but maybe someone could read it to them or something?"

"Of course, I'll help you write it."

"Thanks." Kallian swallowed a few times and took a breath. Raising her head, she managed to face Alistair without actually looking at him. "Hey, uh, do you guys think I could get a few minutes alone?"

Alistair watched her for a second before nodding. "Sure, take all the time you need. Promise me that we can talk later?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Wynne stood up from the bed and the three humans began to shuffle out of the room. Watching them go, Kallian was suddenly struck by a thought that prompted her call out after them. "Morrigan? Could you hang back for a second?"

The witch paused in mid-step and shot Kallian a blank look. Alistair came to a halt at the doorway, but Wynne caught hold of his sleeve and tugged him out into the hall. She closed the door a moment later to leave Kallian and Morrigan alone in the room. Morrigan plucked at her robes as she took a few uncertain steps toward the foot of the bed. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"It's about what we decided."

Morrigan's yellow eyes snapped to Kallian's face. "'Tis not too late to alter your decision."

"No, it isn't that." Kallian drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Please say that you won't try to change Alistair's mind."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know you could do it if you really wanted to. He cares about you and I'm sure there are plenty of things you could do in order to get your way." Kallian continued on without waiting to see if she had offended the other woman. "But, I'm asking you as a friend not to do it."

Morrigan stared at her with all the inscrutable intensity of a giant cat. She slowly made her way around the edge of the bed to sit down beside Kallian. "I am having trouble understanding why you are so adamant in this. Do you wish to die?"

"Of course not."

"Then why refuse me?"

"Morrigan, it's all over for me no matter what I choose." Kallian wished there was some way she could make the other woman understand. "If I do this, at least I can go out knowing that my death meant something. I'm asking that you don't take that from me."

"Death is an abstract thing. Attempting to bestow it with meaning is a fruitless task."

Kallian frowned at her. "I'm not looking to have a debate on philosophy here. This is what I want for myself, Morrigan. Please, let me do it."

Morrigan seemed to take that in. Tilting her head to one side, she nodded thoughtfully. "As I am in your debt, I suppose 'twould be very ungenerous of me to refuse such a request."

"You don't owe me anything, Morrigan."

"I do. Although I have never said as much, I believe that I am greatly indebted to you." A small hint of uncertainty crept into her expression. "It must sound foolish, but you are the first person I ever called friend. You have been kind to me when most others would not have troubled themselves. I cannot account for the things you have done on my behalf. Please know that even if I am not always worthy of your friendship, I do treasure it."

"That means a lot, Morrigan. I'm also glad that the two of us met." A tight knot of emotion formed in Kallian's throat and she swallowed heavily around it. "Oh hell, I'm seriously about to start bawling my eyes out over here."

"Please do not." Morrigan froze in place like a startled deer. One of her hands jerked forward as if to touch Kallian, but she pulled it back quickly. "I promise that I shall not interfere with you decision. I would only ask that you be certain that this is what you desire."

"It is."

Morrigan gave her a short nod. "Then, I suppose we are done. For whatever 'tis worth, I will miss you once you are gone."

On impulse, Kallian lunged forward and hugged Morrigan tightly even as the other woman went rigid in her arms. After nearly two seconds of complete rigor mortis, Morrigan finally relaxed enough to awkwardly pat Kallian on the back. Sniffing to ward off any tears, Kallian pulled away and gave Morrigan a smile. "Sorry, it just seemed right."

Morrigan smoothed her robes and seemed to draw herself up. "Tis not a problem. As I cannot dissuade you from this course, would you grant me a small indulgence?"

"Sure."

"When you face the Archdemon, would you wear this?" Morrigan drew a braided leather cord from out of the folds of her robes. Dangling on the end of the cord was a small rock that had been carved from some type of crystal. Looking closer, Kallian could see that it was covered in dark stains and emanating a faint, purple light.

"What is it?"

"A necklace that my mother gave to me." Morrigan held it out in offering and Kallian took it from her hand. "She claimed that 'twas a talisman of a sort. I do not expect it shall serve to protect you from the Archdemon, but I would be…comforted by the thought of you wearing it."

"Thanks, Morrigan." Kallian was profoundly touched by the small gesture. Lifting the necklace up, she pointed at the dark spots on the crystal. "What are these stains here?"

"Blood."

Kallian huffed a short laugh and slipped the necklace on. "Of course they are. I'd be honored to wear it."

Morrigan stood from the bed and shifted on her feet. "I am glad. My hope is that you will reconsider you choice, but I shall respect your wishes if that does not prove to be the case."

"I appreciate that."

"Then I shall leave you for now."

The witch inclined her head in farewell and made for the doorway. She did not look back as she opened the door and exited in a swish of flapping cloth. Idly fingering Morrigan's gift, Kallian waited until she was sure that the other woman was gone before grabbing one of the pillows off the bed and hugged it to her chest.

As she lay down to curl into a tight ball, she could feel the hot press of tears against her eyelids. Alone, there was only direction her thoughts could possible take. She thought about everything she was going to lose: Leliana, her family, even the bizarre group of people that had become her friends. There was no denying what they meant to her, and thinking of what she stood to lose hurt more then she would have believed possible.

Then, with no one around to see her, she let herself cry.

...

xxXxx

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I'm not very experienced when it comes to writing sad things, so feel free to offer some criticism about how this all got laid out. For those of you who might be hoping for some more Leliana, that comes next chapter.

Ugh, so between graduating and moving all my stuff, I've been busy lately. That said, I swear that this story is getting finished barring an act of god. As it stands, there will be three more chapters and an epilogue.

Please consider leaving some feedback!


	45. Old College Try

**A/N:** So, this chapter turned out to be more difficult than I anticipated. After I wrote it for the first time, my wonderful and hardworking beta Gorg noted that it would be better from Leliana's point of view rather than Kallian's. I agreed, and thus it was rewritten.

Chapter 45: Old College Try

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

...

Leliana was pacing.

While her room at the Arl's estate was fairly large by conventional standards, it still felt stifling as she aimlessly circled about its perimeter. Her progress was not constant; each time she passed by her dresser or vanity, she would pause long enough to find some way to occupy her hands. This mostly meant fiddling with her few possessions or rearranging things that were perfectly fine as they were. What she needed was a proper outlet to channel her energy into, but she was far too preoccupied to be doing anything useful.

After taking an unreasonably long time to fluff the pillows on her bed, she shot an irritated look over at the hourglass. She had turned it over a third time since getting back to the room, and she privately resolved that there would not be a forth. Alistair had assured her that his conversation with Kallian would only take a half-hour. By this point, it was almost guaranteed that something was amiss. Only a steadily diminishing respect for Kallian's privacy had kept Leliana for searching her out.

Besides, there were plenty of reasons for why Kallian might be delayed. Perhaps the conversation had run long, or Wynne might have wanted to examine Kallian further to ensure that she was alright. It was even possible that the elf was still feeling weak from her coma. She barely managed to stand upright when Leliana had first awakened her.

Now that she took a moment to think of it, Leliana realized that was actually a very salient point. Maybe Kallian _wanted_ to see her, but she was simply incapable of doing so due to illness. It would be wrong of Leliana if she did not even check to see if that was the case.

Galvanized by the thought, she shed the robe that she had put on after her bath before stepping in front of her dresser. Arl Eamon had given her quite a selection of fine dresses, but Leliana simply grabbed the first one at hand. It was a light-green gown that fit her reasonable well. Her hair was still wrapped up in a towel, but before she could reach up to unravel it, a soft knock sounded at her door.

Leliana turned to regard the door. It looked as though she was going to be saved the trouble of searching for Kallian. After briefly glancing at herself in the vanity mirror to ensure that she looked presentable, Leliana walked over to the door and opened it.

Kallian stood staring up at her like a lost child at the markets. Her big eyes were looked unsure and vulnerable, and there was a noticeable droop in her posture that had to be the result of exhaustion. Leliana wondered if this were due to stress or simply the result of her recent coma. A week without food had left Kallian looking a little gaunt, but she would have looked considerably worse if Wynne had not used magic to curtail starvation. She was still wearing the white bedclothes that she had woken up in and her black hair was a tangled mess that looked every bit as despondent as Kallian herself. Tilting her head to one side, the elf offered Leliana a weak smile. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Leliana smiled back at her. One day, she would have to teach Kallian that there were other ways of greeting people. "How did your talk with Alistair go?"

"Okay, I guess. Sorry it took so long" Kallian shrugged, but did not elaborate further. Leliana barely suppressed the urge to pry a little. She was a curious woman by nature and there was nothing as maddening as knowing that someone else knew a secret.

"I managed to occupy myself. Should you be walking about?"

"Probably not."

Leliana pushed the door open further. "Then I suppose you had best come in. We can't have you falling faint in the hallway, can we? Wynne would give me a dreadful telling off."

Kallian nodded as she brushed past Leliana on her way into the room. Her movements were stilted as though she was carefully thinking about each step. Leliana watched her for a moment and wondered if she should get Wynne. She had a feeling that the mage would not approve of Kallian being out of bed. Shutting the door, she decided that she would hold off on that for the time being. Now that she was alone with Kallian, she was unwilling to sacrifice the privacy. Indicating the grossly over-stuffed couch that was pressed against the far wall, she tapped Kallian on the shoulder. "You can sit down if you like. I don't know if you are still hungry, but we could probably find a servant and order something."

"No, I'm ok."

The elf shifted on her feet and looked down when Leliana tried to meet her eyes. Without warning, she abruptly lurched forward to wrap her arms around Leliana's waist. The sudden motion took Leliana by surprise and prompted her to release a soft grunt. Heedless, Kallian pressed her face against the front of Leliana's gown and gripped tighter than was strictly comfortable. Leliana furrowed her brow as she brought her own arms up to return the embrace. There was an odd desperation to Kallian's gesture that made her uneasy. "Is something the matter? You seem rather upset."

"No, it's nothing." Kallian released a shaky breath without raising her head. "It is good to see you. I didn't get to say it back there, but I really want you to know that I missed you."

"Even though you were asleep?"

"Doesn't matter. I still missed you."

Her voice sounded rough and entirely serious. Leliana pushed Kallian back far enough so that she could look her in the face. "Are you certain that everything is alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Kallian finally eased up on her death grip around Leliana's waist. Taking a step backwards, she cleared her throat and waved a hand dismissively. "I guess I am feeling a bit out of sorts. After this morning, I've got a thousand things running through my head and I can barely process any of it."

Her explanation made Leliana grimace in sympathy. "I don't blame you. It must have been hard to wake up and learn all of that at once."

"I've had better mornings."

"All that matters is that you are finally awake." Leliana grinned down at the shorter woman as she tried to think of a way to set Kallian at ease. There was little she could do to ease the stress of the upcoming Blight, but dwelling on it would not help either of them. What the elf needed was a small measure of normalcy. A quick glance at Kallian's messy hair gave Leliana the inspiration she was looking for. "Here, come with me. I have just the thing to make you feel better."

She grabbed hold of Kallian's hand and tugged her over towards the vanity. Gesturing for Kallian to take the accompanying stool, she pulled a nearby chair over to sit behind the elf. Kallian glanced back at her with trepidation written all over her features. "What exactly are we doing?"

"Clearly, I am preparing to torture you." Leliana rolled her eyes and leaned forward to pluck her hairbrush off the vanity. Using her hand to tilt Kallian's head until she was facing forward once more, she lifted the brush and began to run it through Kallian's hair. "Just sit still and try to relax."

In the mirror's reflection, she could see Kallian wincing every time the brush caught on a tangle. However, after Leliana had worked through the worst of it, Kallian began to close her eyes in obvious pleasure. The act was soothing for Leliana as well. There was a pleasing domesticity to sharing a quiet moment with Kallian. After several minutes of this, Kallian leaned back against Leliana legs and made a sleepy sound. "This is nice. No one has ever done this for me before."

Leliana's motions faltered as she looked up in surprise. "No one? Not even your mother?"

"I used to hate haircuts and mom was never big on patience. She got fed up pretty quick and just chopped it all off."

"Ah, thus your distinct style was born."

"I don't know if you can call 'utter indifference' a distinctive style."

"I refuse to believe that you don't care at all. No one is truly indifferent to their appearance." Leliana set down the comb to pinch a lock of Kallian's hair between her thumb and forefinger. Pulling it out taut, she considered it for a moment. "You really do have lovely hair. Not to push my preferences on you, but if it were longer, I think it would look nice pulled back and tied loosely. Maybe you could leave a few strands free to frame your face. It would soften some of the angles of your face and make you look a little less glare-y."

Kallian huffed a soft laugh. "What if I like looking glare-y?"

"Then you will be pleased to know you are rather good at it." Leliana smiled to show that she was only teasing before reaching up to unfurl the towel around her head. She shook her half-dry hair and combed it free with her fingers. Keeping her tone light, as she gestured to it with a flourish. "What do you think I should do with mine? It's getting a bit long and could use some managing. I was thinking about trying one of those uneven cuts. They are supposed to be all the rage in Southern Orlais lately."

She did not receive an immediate response. Kallian stared back at her with a solemn intensity that made Leliana self-conscious. After a long pause, the elf tilted her head and responded in a quiet tone. "I don't think it matters. You could do whatever you want and you would still be the most wonderful woman I've ever met."

The frank conviction in her tone was astonishing. Feeling a flush burning in her cheeks, Leliana forced a laugh in an attempt to play it off. "I won't pretend that I was not fishing for a compliment, but that was more than I was expecting. Edging dangerously close to flattery, are we?"

"It wasn't a joke." Kallian twisted around on the stool so that she was facing Leliana directly. Her eyebrows were drawn close together and she almost looked angry. "I'm being serious, Leliana. I've never met anyone like you. Everything you do just makes me happy, and while I know I'm not really good about putting it into words, you need to know that I am so thankful we met. I don't think I could've made it to this point without you."

Leliana blinked several times as she tried to catch up. "Kallian—"

"No, let me finish." Kallian cut Leliana off hurriedly. Her voice was starting to crack and she began to rush over her words. "Look, what I'm saying is that I realize how lucky I am. Not just because I met you, but also 'cause you didn't give up. Even when I was being a bitch, you tried to help. That means more to me than just about anything. And I guess that if I…you know, if something were to happen, I'd want you to at least know that. And, I also wanted to tell you something for a while and I figure that now is a good time. I...well, I guess I need to tell you that...uh...well, damn..."

The elf trailed off with a rough cough. Tension held her face in a tight mask that seemed like it was teetering on the edge of breaking. Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Leliana needed a moment to gather her thoughts. She was now convinced that she was missing something. There was a great deal of naked emotion in Kallian's eyes and all of it seemed painful. Leliana reached out to touch the side of Kallian's face with her fingers. "Kallian, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." Kallian shied away from the contact. "I don't know where that came from. Sorry, let's just forget I said anything."

Leliana withdrew her hand and managed to ignore the stab of hurt that the rejection had caused. "No, I'm not going to pretend that everything is alright when it clearly is not. I know you, Kallian. It's obvious when something is eating away at you. We've both trusted each other with a great deal, don't shut me out again. Not if you meant those things that you said."

She could see the impact her words had on Kallian. The elf seemed to shrink in on herself like a dog being scolded. Kallian opened her mouth as if to reply, but the only thing that came out was a half-formed syllable. Shaking her head, she stood up from the stool and turned to walk a few steps away. Her shoulders were slumped and she still looked unsteady on her feet. "I wanted to avoid this."

"Avoid what?"

Kallian turned back to Leliana with her arms folded tight against her chest. She swallowed one before answering. "I'm not going to make it through the Blight. If Ferelden is going to survive this thing, then I have to die."

Slowly, Leliana up from her seat. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"It's how we defeat the Archdemon. The bastard can't be killed by an ordinary person. It'll just keep healing itself through some sort of Darkspawn nonsense." Kallian stared down at the carpet as she spoke. "Only a Grey Warden can kill the Archdemon for good, but they have to die along with it. I volunteered to do the killing."

None of it registered. Leliana heard the words, but the way that Kallian presented them was so matter-of-fact. It felt more like a bizarre joke than an open admission. She might have laughed were it not for the curious numbness that had overtaken her. "I…I don't understand."

"It's not complicated." Kallian snapped at her in a burst of anger. "I'm going to die in three days so the rest of this sodding country can go on living."

"But, this can't be right! There has to be some way to—"

Kallian jerked her head sharply to one side. "There isn't. It has to happen that way."

Leliana moved forward to close the distance between them. Her mind was still reeling as she lifted her hands to clasp Kallian's shoulders. "Please, slow down for a moment. How long have you known? How did you even decide this?"

"Alistair told me this morning. He apparently learned it from that Orlesian Warden." In spite of the blunt, almost aggressive way that Kallian was speaking, she did not look angry. If anything, her tired eyes looked frightened. "I don't understand why, but this is how Blights are stopped. It's the whole reason Wardens are important."

"Oh, Kallian." Leliana released the shorter woman and all but stumbled backwards. Her legs struck the edge of her bed, and she sat down heavily. A sharp, ripping pain settled in the center of her breast. It was as though her heart was trying to tear itself free of the situation. "You can't do this."

Kallian's face became guarded. For a moment, she adopted an eerily emotionless expression. "I have to."

"No, this isn't right. Why do you have to be the one?."

"It's between Alistair and me. He's the king, and I've only got a few months of sanity left before my time is up." Kallian shrugged her shoulder in a poor attempt at nonchalance. "I'm the natural choice. Someone has to do it and I guess that person is me."

"There has to be a way to change this."

"No. There's nothing."

"Kallian, please tell me this isn't true."

"I can't do that." Kallian unfolded her arms. She no longer looked angry, just sad and defeated. "I'm sorry."

Leliana felt her eyes burn with tears. A sob built in her throat before shuddering its way past her lips. She had been so relieved to have Kallian back this morning; to have a new misery hoisted on them now was a terrible cruelty. Kallian was the one that deserved comfort right now, but Leliana found herself crying before she could even begin to control the impulse. It was a horrid revelation that was made no easier by the way it had been delivered.

The bed dipped as Kallian sank down beside her. Warm arms wrapped around Leliana's shoulders even as she felt Kallian's forehead press against the side of her head. The elf murmured something softly under her breath and stroked her hand along the length of Leliana's upper arm. Grateful for the contact, Leliana leaned against the other woman and let her tears fall freely. A deep, resounded ache had spread through the entirety of her chest to make drawing in each breath a difficult task. There was no way to properly express the pain she felt. It was more than just simply losing someone she loved. It was losing everything that made Kallian a part of her life. She thought about what it would be like to never see Kallian's crooked smile again, to never tease her again, to never spend another night with the elf in her arms. It shredded her composure and left her feeling like half of a person. She cried and made no attempt to prevent herself from doing so.

"I should have come up with a better way to tell you." Kallian spoke up in a gravelly voice after the worst of Leliana's sobs had passed."I didn't want that to be so harsh. Hell, I hadn't planned on telling you at all."

Leliana sniffed loudly and brushed at her eyes. It took her a few moments to pull herself together enough to respond. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Didn't want to do this. I thought it would be better if we could just have a few days without a bunch of sadness hanging over us."

"I wouldn't have wanted that."

She felt Kallian nod in agreement. "Kinda figured. You deserve to know."

"It's so terrible, Kallian." Leliana pulled herself away from the elf's embrace. She dragged a hand down her face and took several deep breaths. "How are you handling this so well?"

Kallian glanced sidelong at her. "I don't think I have the energy to cry anymore. I spent the last hour sobbing into a pillow."

"Alone?"

"Yeah."

Leliana fought down a fresh surge of tears. "I'm so sorry. I should have stayed."

"It's alright. I needed some time to get myself straight." Kallian released a hollow sort of laugh. "That's not to say that I'm all good. I keep feeling like I'm about to start screaming. It was a lot worse a little while ago. Now, I'm mostly numb."

"There truly isn't anything we can do? This really is the only option?"

Kallian hesitated before responding. "Morrigan had a solution. Before you ask, it won't happen."

"What is it?"

"It's pretty fucked up." The elf heaved a sigh. "Long story short? She wants Alistair to get her knocked up so she can put the Archdemon in the baby."

Leliana looked at her. "Truthfully?"

"She pitched it in flowery terms, but basically, yes." Kallian scowled as she spoke. "I won't be the cause of any hurt to a kid. I may not be a saint, but that's one line I won't ever cross."

"Even if it means saving your life?"

"Who says I want to save it?"

Leliana took the words like a blow to the stomach. Pulling back slightly, she stared at Kallian agape. "That is a horrible thing to say."

"I...didn't mean it in that way." Kallian lifted a hand to her face and pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Just forget I said that, okay? It didn't come out right."

She then rose from the bed and walked towards the room's window. Bracing her hands on the broad windowsill, Kallian leaned forward until her nose was almost touching the frosted glass. Leliana sat still for a moment and debated on what to do next. She was rattled by Kallian's ghastly statement. It did not sound like the type of thing Kallian would say. Uncertain but determined to do something, she rose off the bed and moved to stand behind the elf. Denerim was clearly visible through the window, and she let her eyes drift over the cityscape as she framed a response.

The view of the market district was bleak where it should have been impressive. Leliana looked out over the sprawl of snow-capped buildings and could not help but feel empty. A pervasive stillness had fallen over the entire city. There were no fires burning in any of the countless hearth, and the few soldiers patrolling the large market pavilion somehow made the scene all the more lonely. A city like Denerim was not meant to be quiet. It was as if it were holding its breath in preparation for the pain to come.

Further north, she could see trails of smoke on the horizon. The Dwarven, Dalish, and Ferelden armies were currently billeted outside of the city walls and their campfires were the only signs of life. Alistair planned to move them into temporary quarters over the next few days, but until then, they would have to endure the cold. Only the mages were already inside of the city, and that was simply because the Chantry had insisted on keeping them housed under its own authority.

Leliana waited for Kallian to speak until it became evident that the other woman was lost in her thoughts. Stepping forward, she slid her arms around Kallian's waist and gave her a gentle prompt. "What did you mean by that? Do you want this to happen?"

"No." Kallian murmured without looking away from the glass. "But also, sorta yeah. It seems better than the alternative."

"Are you referring to your condition?"

"Can we stop calling it that? It's not like I have a runny nose or something. I lose my mind and put knives in people. That isn't a condition." Kallian released a tired groan and relaxed into Leliana's embrace. "Anyway, to answer your question: yeah, it's because of my 'condition'. If I have the choice, I'd rather go out on my own terms rather than spend two months waiting for death."

Leliana felt her stomach twist at hearing Kallian speak of death so candidly. Her first instinct was to protest, but she hesitated as she considered what Kallian had said. The knowledge of her impending death must have been a terrible weight on Kallian's mind. As much as Leliana would like to believe that Wynne could find a cure, there was no evidence that this would prove to be the case. If she were asked to choose between death and becoming that…thing that killed Loghain, she knew what she would do.

Hating herself just slightly, Leliana responded honestly. "I believe I understand."

Kallian turned her head so that she could look back at Leliana. "If I'm gonna die, I might as well go out doing something that matters. This means Alistair will still be the king. He's something of an idiot, but I think he could be a good ruler with the right help."

She said the words as if hoping they were true. Leliana's throat grew scratchy, and she had to cough in order to banish the sensation. "What you are doing is very brave."

"Wynne said the same thing. It's not brave, just practical."

"Practical or no, it requires courage to face this like you are. Don't try to convince yourself otherwise. I can't bring myself to approve of this, but that doesn't mean I don't admire you."

Kallian twisted around so that they were facing one another. Her eyes were red-rimmed and misty, but she managed a tiny smile as she leaned up to place a kiss on Leliana's cheek. It was an innocent gesture of affection that made Leliana's heart ache. The elf whispered her next words without pulling back. "If there was anything in the world that could keep me from doing this, it would be you."

Leliana closed her eyes and pulled Kallian to her. "I know that I can't ask you to abandon this. I want to, but I won't. You are doing the right thing. The worst part of this is being helpless to change anything. I wish more than anything that there was something I could do for you."

"I know. Thank you."

Their conversation faltered to a lame pause. Rather than try to find some more inadequate words, Leliana settled for tucking Kallian's head underneath her chin and praying that the physical contact would be enough. In spite of her strong front, it was likely that Kallian was only just holding herself together. Leliana could be here for her if nothing else.

"You wanna know what I can't believe?" Kallian continued speaking before Leliana could respond. "What I can't believe is that I'm doing this to save Denerim of all places."

"More than just Denerim."

"Yeah, but this is where I'm actually going to die. I used to promise myself that I would never die in Denerim. I wanted to leave this place behind." The elf pulled away from Leliana and swept a hand out to indicate the window. "Do you have any idea how much I hate this fucking city? I hate every single thing about it. The people, the way it smells, the fact that it took my mom from me. It would be better if the Darkspawn burned it to the ground."

The venom in her voice surprised Leliana. Choosing her words carefully, she tried to calm things down. "You don't mean that."

"Maybe not, but it isn't far from the truth. When we were kids, Shianni and I used to waste time thinking about how we were going to get out. I wanted us to run off and become mercenaries, but Shianni always liked the idea of joining up with a merchant ship. We had other ideas too, but all of them were impossible for one reason or another." Kallian's voice took on an ugly edge that made her words come out like a series of harsh obscenities. "It turns out all I had to do was get raped and murder a noble. I guess the joke was on me, huh?"

Leliana looked down at Kallian. They did not often speak of her rape. It was a subject that Kallian avoided whenever possible, and in light of everything else that was going on, there never seemed an appropriate time to address something of that nature. "We don't always get to decide where life takes us. I learned that just as painfully as you did. Even so, I would not change what happened with Marjolaine for anything. It is part of who I am, and it led me down a path that has given me much to be thankful for. Do you ever feel the same way?"

"A part of me does, sure." Kallian lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "But that's a small part and I'm not done being angry yet. Each time I start thinking that I can put all that behind me, I remember how messed up I was during those first few weeks with Duncan. I don't think I ever understood what hate was before then. I felt like there wasn't a single good thing left in me. Every thought I had was either crazy or filled with rage. I remember thinking that I could slit Duncan's throat while he was sleeping and then run away. If it wasn't that, then I was thinking about offing myself."

Leliana flinched back in a visceral response. "Don't say that."

"My point is that I sorta hated everything. I hated Denerim for what it had done to my family, I hated Vaughan for raping me, and I hated humans because it seemed like all my problems were caused by shems. I even hated myself a little bit. I'd become this different person who was just angry and out of control. I was miserable, but I still think it would have been easier to do this if I was still that same person. I could have died back then and it would have been alright."

"I'm not sure if I understand."

Kallian took a deep breath. "I didn't have anything to lose. That isn't the case anymore. I've got friends that I'd trust with my life and my family is out there somewhere. Alistair, Wynne, and Morrigan are all important to me, and I kinda even like Zevran and Oghren when they aren't being asses."

It took some work, but Leliana managed to smile. "I feel as though you are leaving someone out."

"I was getting to you." Kallian gave her an impatient look. "I meant everything I said earlier. You're the best thing that's happened to me."

Leliana's smile became more genuine. Bringing up a hand to cup the side of Kallian's face, she lowered her head down so that their lips met. It was not a long kiss, but it helped to heal some of the damage that today had caused. They both needed this small measure of comfort. As they broke apart, Leliana met Kallian's eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either." Kallian's voice cracked on the last word. "This isn't fair."

"No, it isn't."

Kallian sniffed and brought up a hand to paw at her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears, and Leliana knew that if Kallian began crying, she would start up again as well. Surprisingly, the elf just hiccupped and cleared her throat. "You know that I love you, right?"

Leliana felt her eyebrows creep up in surprise. "That is a profoundly unromantic way of letting me know."

"I could get down on one knee if that's what you'd prefer."

"No, I think I like this better. It's a very Kallian thing to do." Leliana felt a warm glow tingle its way through her body. "In case you are wondering, _Je t'aime_ means—"

"I love you?" Kallian interjected with a small smirk. "Yeah, I asked Wynne about it a while back."

Unsure of whether or not she should be peeved, Leliana blinked several times in consternation. "And you said nothing about it? That's…that's…well, that's a bit awkward."

"If it makes you feel any better, it was a really fancy and elegant way of letting me know."

Leliana tried and failed to hold back a smile. "I could have yelled it at you in passing if that's what you would have preferred."

"There's something to be said for efficiency."

They both laughed and that almost made things seem alright. Kallian looked as emotionally drained as Leliana felt. They needed this release. Wiping at her eyes with a small chuckle, Kallian glanced up at Leliana. "Not to alarm you or anything, but my legs are starting to tremble. I think I need to lie down."

"By all means." Leliana caught hold of Kallian's elbow and began to guide her back towards the bed. "Should I get Wynne? Or some food?"

"No, I think I just need to sleep. I'd rather do it here if you don't mind."

"I might even join you. The last week has not been very restful. For one of us, in any case."

She helped Kallian into bed even though the elf protested the extra assistance. After ensuring that Kallian was situated, Leliana stripped off her gown and slipped in beside her. She lay flat on her back and lifted her arm to let Kallian curl up along her side. The elf rested her head on Leliana's shoulder and blew out a breath. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"I dunno," Kallian's hand ghosted across Leliana's stomach before coming to rest over her hip. "For not making this harder. For being here."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"Yeah, I really do."

They lay together in silence for a time. Leliana found that she was far too shaken to truly relax. A single thought kept resurfacing in her mind until she felt compelled to voice it aloud. "Kallian, is there anything you need to do before...?"

"I'm gonna write a letter to my dad. I figure I'll spend some time with Alistair and the others when I'm not with you." Kallian's figures tapped rhythmically against the curve of Leliana's hip. "Maybe I'll steal another bottle of wine from the Arl."

"He would give you one if you asked."

"Wouldn't be the same."

Leliana's lips quirked up, and then fell just as quickly. "Nothing else?"

"Nothing that I can really think of. I'm going to ask Alistair to watch over my family after I'm gone. The king should be able to give them a little help now and again." Kallian sighed heavily. "I don't have any big life ambitions that we could deal with in three days. The one thing I wanted to do after the Blight was travel with you. I've lived by the sea my entire life and never so much as set foot on a ship. If Duncan hadn't recruited me, I probably would have spent my entire life in Denerim."

"Where would you want to go?"

Kallian raised a shoulder. "I dunno, maybe Orlais? Zevran says Antiva is pretty nice, but it's sort of a mute point anyways. I guess I was mostly just curious about the rest of the world was like."

The simple ambition sounded odd without a trace of hope behind it. Leliana experienced a crushing sense of sorrow in the ensuing silence. She wanted to say something comforting, but what was there to say? Kallian had accepted this as an eventuality and nothing could make that any easier.

However, even as that thought crossed her mind, Leliana was struck with weak inspiration. It would be a small gesture in the face of what Kallian was experiencing, but it was the most that Leliana could offer. She only hoped that it would not cause offense. "My favorite place in Antiva is called is El Puerto de Terra Rosado. It's extraordinarily beautiful if a bit unconventional for a port. Most of the coastline is covered by large cliffs in the area are made of a crystalline stone. Having nowhere else to build, the people have set their homes directly into these cliffs and decorated them with colorful banners. When you sail through the port's mouth, the entire city seems to stretch up all around you like a maelstrom. You can hear hundreds of people shouting to one another on the different city steps, and these strange little seabirds are always darting about like they have somewhere to be. But, it's around sunset that the city becomes a true work of art. When the evening light catches all those crystals in the stone, the coastline practically glows. No one in Terra Rosado works during these hours. Everyone takes the time to simply enjoy the wonder that is their home."

Leliana fell silent, unsure of whether or not she should continue. Kallian was silent for several moments before she swallowed thickly. "Could you...uh, keep going?"

"Of course." Leliana closed her eyes and called up her memories of Antiva. "Once you go further inland from the port, everything becomes flat and there are great expanses of yellow and green grass. The soil there is fertile and it has a rich, rusty color that the locals claim is from the blood of a giant that died many thousands of years ago. It is very finely ground and if you were to smell it, you would swear that it smells like the warmth of the sun. They grow this unusual fruit there that is fleshy and contains a hard pit at the center. The farmers call them _aceitunas_ and the taste is hard to describe. It's strong and rather bitter, but also refreshing at the same time. Now, if you go further south from there…"

Leliana kept describing Antiva in as many ways as she was able. She kept talking long after Kallian's breathing became deep and measured with sleep. When she finished with Antiva, she briefly spoke of the Free Marches before recounting something of Orlais. Her throat grew dry and tight before she had even begun to describe Val Royeaux.

She finally lapsed into silence when there seemed nothing else to say. Kallian murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and shifted slightly. Tugging the elf closer, Leliana lifted her free hand and wiped at her eyes when they started to water. Three days seemed like a very short amount of time.

...

xxXxx

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I'm mostly done with my grad school applications, so I hope to have some more free time in the coming months. In any case, there are two more chapters and an epilogue to go. Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and that goes double for everyone that has reviewed. I really appreciate your feedback!

Ok, enough tragic conversations in this fic. Now it's time to move onto the lighter subject of cataclysmic devastation.


	46. Forever After Days

Chapter 46: Forever After Days

-Denerim-

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xxXxx

...

Denerim was burning.

There were several fires currently raging across the city, but the largest one was off to the west where the dock warehouses had once been. Consistent gusts of ash and embers bellowed forth from the docks to cloud the air in choking waves. Sunset had been hours ago, but the orange glow of the conflagration illuminated the skyline as if it were still early evening. Each breath Kallian took was sour with smoke and other aromas that she preferred not to think about. When she had pictured this battle with the Darkspawn, she had never spared a thought for how war would smell. Beneath the woodsy stench of a smoldering city, war smelled like blood and shit mixed together. It was sickening on so many different levels that she doubted that anyone could get used to it.

She tightened her jaw as she looked out over the devastation. Their party was currently located in a small courtyard near the outskirts of the Highlands district. This particular section of the city was elevated enough to provide a decent view of the surrounding area. It also afforded Kallian the chance to take in the scope of what they were facing. Unlike the poor bastards who were stuck defending the walls, Kallian and the others had spent the last seven hours running about the city to help where they were needed. Much of what they had done involved brutal skirmishes to drive back the enemy, but each of those fights had been small and contained. None of it had given her any idea of what to expect in the larger picture.

Her eyes were watering from the smoke in the air. It was a slight discomfort that paled in comparison to the physical exhaustion she felt. Every single part of her body was sore in its own special way, but her right arm and shoulder stood out from the rest. The muscles there were strained and overworked to the point of exhaustion. Kallian didn't know how she would find the strength to lift her sword again let alone swing it. The very idea made her groan in discomfort.

That being said, she could certainly lift the bottle of brandy in her left hand. She had found it in an abandoned wagon down by the markets several hours earlier. Now seemed like as good a time as any to drink it, and the harsh liquor felt surprisingly good as it worked its way down her throat.

"You are drinking?"

Kallian glanced over as Morrigan came up to stand beside her. Irritated by the accusation she perceived in the other woman's tone, Kallian grated out a response. "My to-do list for today includes killing a gigantic Darkspawn-dragon and dying. So yeah, I'm drinking."

"I did not intend for that to sound judgmental." Morrigan muttered a curt reassurance. "'I am merely unsure of what I should say to you in these circumstances. How do people typically behave when they wish to express a vicarious sorrow?"

Although she did not know what "vicarious" meant, Kallian had a good idea of what Morrigan was asking. "Dunno, a lot of people just say 'I'm sorry' or 'that's a shame'. It's never really profound, but the sympathy can help."

"Then, I shall say that I am sorry. 'Tis a difficult situation and I am saddened that we will soon be parted."

"Thanks, it makes me sad too." Kallian hesitated and then extended the brandy in offering. "Here, friends should drink together. I doubt we're ever going to get another chance."

Morrigan took the brandy and studied it like there was some secret to be found. Lifting the bottle to her lips, the witch drank a mouthful and swallowed it. She seemed to ponder the taste for a moment before handing the bottle back to Kallian. "People enjoy this?"

"It grows on you."

"I do not see that happening."

Kallian huffed a laugh before turning to look over her shoulder. Some sixty or seventy human soldiers were occupying the same courtyard as their companions. All of them men looked worn out and slightly hollow as if some part of them had been stamped out by the day's conflict. Alistair was currently holding an expressive conversation with their lieutenant, a baby-faced man who struck Kallian as exceptionally out of his depth. She was not sure if any of the men were actually experienced in combat, but they had survived two separate fights that she had seen. Of course, at this point in the battle, there probably wasn't a single Ferelden soldier who had not faced the enemy.

Of their other companions, only Sten and Oghren were present. Leliana and Zevran were both off escorting Wynne through the city. They were expected to rendezvous at the northern gate at some point, but Kallian had lost all track of time. At the moment, Oghren was helping Sten repair a section of chainmail that had come loose from the qunari's armor.

She watched them for a few moments before turning back to look at Morrigan. Like the rest of them, the witch's skin was stained black from ash and grime. Trails of sweat had carved thin lines through the soot on her cheeks to leave her skin looking like dry, cracked mud. It wasn't a flattering image and Kallian saw no need to voice it aloud. Instead, she took another small swig of brandy and nudged Morrigan with her elbow. "You think this plan of Alistair's is going to work?"

"It should. The Circle mages are a noxious and cowardly lot, but cooperation is their sole saving grace. Provided the Archdemon takes the bait, I assume that their combined efforts will be enough to bring it to the ground."

"That's good, because I don't see us killing that thing while it's still flying about."

"But you are prepared should the opportunity present itself, yes?"

"Well, I've got a sword and powerful hatred for the Darkspawn. That's about all I need aside from some courage and a crazy amount of luck." Kallian grinned even though neither of them had said anything funny. Lifting the bottle, she shook it lightly. "I've got the courage part covered."

"If only it could imbue luck as well." Morrigan glanced down at Kallian's neck. "Until you find something that does, my amulet will have to suffice. It pleases me to see that you are wearing it. I shall take comfort in the knowledge."

Kallian lifted a hand to the leather thong that rested above the bronze collar around her neck. She then Morrigan's amulet out from beneath her breastplate and studied the glowing stone at its center. "I'm just happy to wear some jewelry that isn't magically sealed on my body. This damn collar chafes like nobody's business."

"At least you will not have to endure it for much longer."

"That is the silver lining."

A clatter of metal armor made them both turn around in time to watch Alistair approach. He gave Kallian a tight smile as he joined them. The new King of Ferelden looked like hell. His previously bright armor was now covered in a black muck that seemed equal parts ash and Darkspawn blood. Mercifully, he had managed to avoid any injuries, but his shield and breastplate looked like someone had taken a hammer to them. Kallian could not even imagine how he was still standing. Her own leather and chainmail armor weighed a fraction of his, and it still seemed like she was wearing a bunch of stone weights. Returning his smile with a nod, she gestured over at the human soldiers. "Are we going to be moving out soon?"

"I'm going to give them five more minutes to rest before moving them along to guard the northern gate. Maker knows that they could use the rest." He looked past Kallian and out over the city beyond. "I was talking to their officer, and he says that he has 53 men ready to fight. That's almost half as many as we started with."

"We're losing this fight, aren't we?"

"If we were fighting a traditional siege, than I'd say we are actually doing pretty well. We've repelled four major assaults and prevented the Darkspawn from gaining a foothold along the walls. Most attacking armies would be all but broken by this point."

Kallian glanced back over Denerim. She knew that there was a great deal of fighting going across the city, but from a distance, all she could see was smoke and fire. "I'm guessing that the Darkspawn aren't like most attacking armies."

"They're endless. It never lets up. When I last heard from Eamon, our arrow supplies were nearly expended and most of the defenders hadn't gotten a chance to rest. We weren't prepared for this. I thought we were, but the Darkspawn are more than we can handle. They don't have the same limitations as regular armies. If this keeps up, we'll be overrun."

"Then I guess we better kill that Archdemon, huh?"

As if on cue, a piercing shriek ripped through the air. Kallian turned her head up in time to watch the distant form of the Archdemon sweep across the sky. Over the last several hours, the massive dragon had become a familiar sight over Denerim. It mostly stayed out of range of the defenders' bows except for when it moved closer to deliver a nightmarish degree of destruction. As she watched, a purplish cloud of fire erupted from the dragon's mouth and arched down to impact against an unseen target. It looked as though a new fire would soon be burning.

"I really hate that sound it makes." Alistair muttered as he watched the Archdemon fly. "Every time I hear it, I think my skin is going to peel away from my bones."

Kallian shook off the chill that had slid down her spine. "Agreed. Shouldn't the signal have come by now?"

"I have no earthly idea. Wynne said that she would have the mages ready by midnight at the latest, but considering that we came up with it on the fly, I wouldn't be surprised if this plan has a few hiccups." He sighed and shrugged his armored shoulders. "I honestly can't believe that I didn't stop to consider the fact that it might be hard to reach a flying dragon."

"Will Wynne and the others will be at the fort with them?"

"I don't know that, either." Alistair turned to look at the tall spire of Fort Drakon. The old Tevinter building loomed over every other structure in Denerim, and Kallian had always thought of it as an eyesore. Right now, it was their best bet for grounding the Archdemon. "She made it sound as though she was going to have the First Enchanter direct things, but she might be up there."

"Then we are just waiting around?"

"Pretty much. What I wouldn't give to know what time it is."

Morrigan bobbed her head. "Less than ten minutes until midnight."

"You're just guessing."

The witch flashed him a haughty look. "'Tis an educated guess based on the position of the moon."

Kallian glanced up at the sky. She could see nothing beyond the smoke and bright light of the fires. "Uh…we can't see the moon."

"That does not prevent me from knowing its location."

"Creepy."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "You beat me to it."

Morrigan sucked in an indignant breath, but before she could unleash whatever retort she had prepared, a voice hailed them from behind. The lieutenant that Alistair had been speaking with earlier trotted over and slammed his fist against his chest in salute. He then offered Alistair a small twist of paper. "A message arrived, Your Grace."

Alistair took it from him and quickly read the note. Swearing softly, he crumpled the paper in his fist. "A few Dalish scouts spotted Darkspawn movement to the north. An attack on the gate is expected soon. Our forces are spread thin and the Arls want us to respond to the threat."

Kallian frowned. "What about the Archdemon?"

"You said it yourself: we are just waiting. Until that signal shows, we might as well be doing something useful. We'll gather the men and move—"

His words were suddenly drowned out a loud clap of noise suddenly swept over their group. From atop of Fort Drakon, a brilliant white light winked into existence like the birth of a new sun. Kallian raised a hand to shield her eyes against the harsh glare that was now bleaching the city into stark tones. It was a dazzling display, but Kallian's attention was elsewhere. Her eyes were already searching for the Archdemon amid the blinding light. It almost came as a relief when she spotted its long silhouette flying around the circumference of Fort Drakon. Having a plan was well and good, but they ultimately could not predict what the Archdemon would do.

"Come on…Come on…go see what that's all about." Alistair muttered as he watched the Archdemon circle in closer. "Just a bit more you bastard."

The dragon flew around the fort several more times before turning a wing and sweeping in toward the bright light. It was exactly what they were hoping for, and a moment later, a magical storm broke over Denerim. Green fire exploded forth from the top of Fort Drakon in a roaring plume that impacted with the Archdemon in a ghostly explosion. Although they were too far away to see the projectiles, Kallian knew that there would men firing bows and ballista at the airborne dragon. Shrieking in response, the Archdemon violently wheeled away from the tower with one of its wings was flapping about lamely. It struggled to say in the air for a few tense seconds before abruptly making a swift and ungainly descent onto Fort Drakon itself. An instant later, the bright light on top of the tower vanished without warning.

Kallian winced. "Was it supposed to land on the roof?"

"Not really, but then I guess it isn't a bad thing. We've got troops all over Fort Drakon." Alistair folded his arms and frowned in the general direction of the fort. "Maybe it was afraid of injuring itself in a longer fall? If not that, then I guess it wanted to keep a vantage point over the battle. Either way, we know where we are headed."

"What about the northern gate?"

"The Archdemon is the priority, but then I suppose we can't really leave that undefended either. I think our best bet is to split up." He glanced back in the direction of the soldiers. All of the men had risen to their feet in order to watch the display over Fort Drakon. "Sten is going to lead the men over to defend the position. Oghren can provide support."

"Leaving the three of us to go deal with the Archdemon."

"That's the idea. How quickly can you get us to the fort?"

Kallian looked at the large structure and tried to gauge how far away it was. "I'd say fifteen minutes. Ten if we really hustle."

"Alright, we'll leave as soon as I give the men their orders. Kallian, you'll want to take that time to say any goodbyes. I don't know if we'll have another chance."

"Fine."

He leaned in a bit closer. "I'd like to stay and wait to regroup with Wynne and the others, but there really isn't time. I'm sorry."

Kallian fought to keep her expression calm. She knew what Alistair was indirectly hinting at. "It's alright. Leliana and I have said everything that we need to."

"Right, then we'll leave soon." Alistair hesitated, and then reached out to lightly pat Kallian on the shoulder. "No matter what happens, I swear that I'll be there beside you."

"Yeah, thanks, Alistair."

He gave her a sympathetic smile before walking off to rejoin his soldiers. Left alone with Morrigan, Kallian turned to look at the witch. "I guess I'd better start with you. No telling if we'll have a chance to talk once we get to the fort."

"This would be a farewell?" Morrigan drew herself up formally. "Then let me say that I am thankful we met. I am very pleased to call you my friend."

"Likewise." Kallian held out her arms for a hug. To her credit, Morrigan only stared at her for a second before accepting the embrace with an exasperated sigh. It might have offending Kallian if she wasn't so certain that the reluctance was feigned. "Watch yourself tonight, Morrigan, and take care of Alistair after I'm gone. He's going to need the help."

"Perhaps."

Kallian smiled as she pulled back and stepped away. "I'm going to go talk with the others. I'll be back in a minute."

She turned away from Morrigan and headed over to where Oghren and Sten were standing. They both acknowledged her with short nods as she drew close. Unsure of how to broach the subject, she settled on cutting to the chase. "We're going to be splitting up. The two of you are going to the north gate while the rest of us go to kill the Archdemon. I'm here to say good-bye."

Sten looked down at her. As always, his face was as warm and expressive as a piece of bedrock. "My people do not often say farewell in the midst of battle. It implies a finality that we consider cowardly pessimistic."

"Well, better safe than sorry, right?" She awkwardly thumped her fist against his breastplate. "I'd tell you to be careful, but at this point, I'm pretty sure that you are literally un-killable."

"Everything can die, _kadan_, including Archdemons." Sten responded gravely as he tilted his head in an efficient nod. "Know that I found our travels together enlightening. I thought very little of you when we first met, but since then I have seen you triumph where stronger, more capable men could have easily failed."

"You do realize that not every compliment has to be backhanded, right?"

Sten stared at her. "I was stating a fact."

"Never mind, I'll just focus on the good parts. I'm glad we found you, Sten. I hope you get to return to your people."

"As do I, _kadan_. We shall speak again once this conflict is over."

"You should probably go check in with Alistair. He'll want to talk to you about the situation."

"Very well."

The qunari nodded at her once more before stomping off in the direction of the soldiers. Kallian watched him go for a moment before turning her attention to Oghren. The dwarf was giving her an odd, searching look that made her want to lower her eyes. Instead, she held out the brandy that she was still carrying. "I've had enough and I'd hate it to go to waste."

"Appreciate that, Sweetness. My flask went dry an hour ago." Oghren accepted the bottle without taking his eyes off her face. After an uncomfortable pause, he shook his head ruefully. "You ain't coming back from this, are ya?"

It took her by surprise. Aside from Leliana, she had told no one about her imminent death. After a moment of blank staring, she shook herself and responded. "No, no I'm not."

"Thought so. Men get a funny look about them when they know their life is over. It's the only time ya' can see someone look terrified and completely calm all at once." He jerked his chin at her. "I saw that look on dwarves joinin' up with the Legion of the Dead, and I'm seeing it now."

"No kidding?" Kallian brushed her fingers across her cheek as if she could feel whatever Oghren was describing. "I didn't realize it was obvious."

"Not obvious, just recognizable. Damn shame in any case." Oghren tipped the brandy bottle to his lips and swallowed several gulps before lowering it. "Yer one of the good ones. Don't know if I ever had a lady for a friend, but I can't think of anything else to call ya'. I mean, yer tough as they come and good for a laugh. Hell, if you could cook worth a damn, I'd have tried to marry ya' by this point."

"I can't see that happening."

"Probably not, given your preferences." The dwarf snorted a laugh through his nose. "I mean, fool me once…"

Kallian shook her head, smiling in spite of the situation. "Promise that you'll drink a beer for me once this is over?"

"If I make it through this shitstorm, I'll be toasting your memory for months."

"Goodbye, Oghren."

Oghren held out his gauntlet for Kallian to shake. "Good meeting ya', Kallian. The world's about to get a lot less interestin'."

They clasped hands and then Kallian bobbed her head in a final farewell. It was as fitting a goodbye as she could imagine from Oghren. Something about his casual acknowledgement actually made her feel better about what was to come. He was right about one thing; there wasn't much else she had to worry about. It was even perversely comforting to think that no matter what happened, she was going to end up dead in one form or another.

She saw that Alistair had rejoined Morrigan and guessed that it was time to leave. Making her way back over to where they stood, Kallian met Alistair's questioning look with a short wave of her hand. "I'm ready."

"Good. The sooner we get there the better."

"Then let's go do our hero thing."

Trying hard not to think about the fact that she was hurrying to her death, Kallian started moving at a brisk trot. A few of the soldiers uttered a ragged cheer as Alistair moved past, but aside from that, their departure was quick and without further ceremony. As soon as they moved onto the main road out of the Highlands, Kallian picked up the pace until they were almost running.

She only stayed on the main road for a minute or two before breaking off to move down a faster shortcut. It was a blessing that none of the streets were blocked. Clear evidence of the war was found everywhere around them. Although Kallian tried not to let any of it distract her, it proved difficult to ignore the vast bloodstains and smoldering rubble that waited around each corner. At one point, they ran past what had once been a nobleman's estate and was now a makeshift field hospital. Several mages were utilizing healing magic in the courtyard out front, but Kallian's attention was on the sheet-covered corpses that occupied one corner of the grounds. There were more than she could easily count, and they probably made a tiny fraction of the total casualties. A part of her wondered if already too late to save the city.

As they drew close to Fort Drakon, her ears picked up the sounds of battle and men screaming. Hoarse, hooting war cries were also audible, and she felt a nervous thrill as she realized that Darkspawn were close. Her Gray Warden senses should have alerted her to this earlier, but there were so many Darkspawn in close proximity that it was hard to distinguish one of the monsters from the next. Even though she felt it was evident that they were about to enter battle, she turned to warn Alistair and Morrigan. She still didn't know how bad human hearing actually was. "Darkspawn ahead."

"Right behind you." Alistair panted, red-faced with exertion. "Keep going unless there are too many to handle."

They rounded one final bend in the road and abruptly found themselves in the middle of a fight. The broad, circular plaza that surrounded Fort Drakon was a chaotic mess of Darkspawn and human soldiers. It was a skirmish with no real organization that she could see. Pitched fights between separated groups of warriors raged throughout the area. Most of the invading Darkspawn were Hurlocks, but she could see the arrow-ridden corpse of an ogre lying nearby. At the main entrance of the fort, at least a score of heavily-armored knights were defending the doorway against any Darkspawn that approached. They seemed to be holding without too much difficulty, but that could very well be subject to change.

Kallian spat out a curse and drew her sword. "Where the hell are they coming from?"

"I don't know, and it doesn't really matter. Push through to the fort." Alistair charged past her with his weapons at the ready. "Morrigan, do something to help these men!"

The earlier exhaustion faded from Kallian's mind as she leapt to follow after him. They ignored most of the combatants as Alistair made a beeline toward the fort, but some of the Darkspawn proved to be insistent. One particularly ugly Hurlock stepped directly in front of Kallian and made a concentrated effort at decapitating her. Weaving to the side in order to avoid the wide swing of its axe, Kallian ducked low and thrust upwards at the side of its ribs. The leaf-shaped blade punched through the corroded metal of the Darkspawn's armor and into its lungs with ease. Withdrawing the sword, she used her free hand to shove the gurgling monster out of her path. The entire engagement took less than a few seconds, and she barely let it slow her down.

Off to her right, she saw a human soldier trip backwards over a corpse. The stunted Genlock he had been fighting released a crow of triumph and rushed forward to capitalize on the mistake. Kallian put on a burst of speed and reached the fallen soldier in the nick of time. She caught the Genlock's jagged sword on the metal plate of her bracers and forced the weapon to the side. There was not enough space between them to properly swing her sword, so she simply brought the hilt forward to smash the cross-guard against the Darkspawn's toothy maw. It stumbled backwards with a screech of pain, and the human soldier at their feet used the opportunity to lean upwards and bury a dagger in its belly.

The soldier scrambled to his feet and bit out a brief, but earnest word of thanks. Kallian acknowledged this with a little salute even as she turned to catch up with Alistair. Before she could take more than a step, an incredibly loud buzz sounded throughout the plaza.

A massive swarm of insects descended over the combatants like a terrifying blanket. Kallian instinctively yelped and covered her face. The roar of countless tiny wings filled her ears, but nothing so much as touched her. Hesitantly lowering her arms, Kallian kept her shoulders hunched as she peered around in horrified bewilderment.

Everywhere she looked, Darkspawn were being torn apart by insects. One Hurlock lurched about in front of her with a both hands clawing at his face. Kallian felt her stomach turn as she realized that the winged insects were crawling down its throat. Inhuman sounds of pain sounded from the tormented creatures as they collapsed and writhed about on the bloodstained cobblestones. The defending soldiers looked as spooked as Kallian was, but they were also untouched by the unnatural swarm.

A hand settled on Kallian's shoulder causing her to jump in surprise. Glancing back, she was confronted by a very smug-looking Morrigan. "I am aware that 'tis quite impressive, but there truly is no need to gawk. The spell will soon dissipate and we should take opportunity before more Darkspawn arrive."

Kallian started jogging forward out a reflex and Morrigan feel in beside her. "Wait, you did that?"

"I hardly see anyone else capable of such a thing."

"You are terrifying, do you know that?"

Morrigan looked rather pleased by the declaration. "I know it well."

With their way no longer impeded, the two of them rushed to meet up with Alistair. He had stopped just outside of the main entrance to Fort Drakon and was staring down at an insect-covered Darkspawn corpse with an expression that was equal parts disgust and fascination. As they drew up with him, he turned to speak with one of the knights at the door. "Where are the Darkspawn coming from?"

"Breach along the Eastern Wall." A tall knight rumbled from within the depths of his enclosed helmet. "I can't say how bad it is, but this is the second wave to arrive since that dragon landed on the roof. We're holding well so far, but more men will be needed if this continues, Your Grace."

"There aren't any more men that I know of." Alistair motioned for the knights to clear a path to the entrance. "Hold these doors for a just little while longer. We're going to put a stop to this."

Kallian followed him into the depths of Fort Drakon. This place had frightened her as a child. Its size and ominous reputation as a prison made it a symbol of oppression amongst the elves of the Alienage. She had always pictured it as a cavernous space full of rusty implements of torture. Now that she was inside, it proved to be cramped and fairly unassuming. They made their way past the entrance and into a domed antechamber that was filled with wounded men. Kallian could see several Dalish elves among their number as well as a single dwarf whose right arm was little more than a bandaged stump.

Alistair pointed at the far end of the room. "There's the staircase, are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The three of them hurried across the room until they reached a broad spiral staircase that Kallian assumed led up to the roof. Alistair slowed his pace as they began to climb, and it was not long before Kallian grew to appreciate that. She did not know exactly how tall Fort Drakon was, but after nearly two minutes of climbing, her legs were burning and her breath was coming out in short bursts. It was enough to make her wonder if they should take a break. Alistair was breathing even harder than she was, and it would be depressingly anticlimactic if they were too winded to prevent the Archdemon from squishing them.

Before she could voice the thought aloud, the staircase suddenly emptied out into a small, semi-circular room. The sound of men screaming poured through an open doorway opposite of them. Kallian could see the night sky beyond the portal and knew that the time had finally arrived. She was surprised at how calm she felt.

Alistair came to halt just beyond the staircase and turned back to her. He extended his hand to shake. "Good luck, Kallian."

"Yeah, you too." Her hand slid into his much larger one and shook it firmly. They might have shared a more heartfelt exchange in a different circumstance, but as it was, this simple expression of solidarity would suffice. They shared a brief smile before Kallian pulled her arm free of his grasp. Alistair took a deep breath and began walking to the door that would lead out onto the roof.

Stamping down the instinctual urge to flee, Kallian steeled herself and followed him with her head held high

A battlefield waited outside. Fort Drakon was a tremendous structure, and the rooftop spanned several hundred yards in diameter. The corpses of dwarven and human soldiers were scattered about the expanse like pale, broken dolls. The six ballistae dotted the circumference of the roof at even intervals, but all but one of the great siege weapons were shattered and burning. A few mages stood out amid the wreckage and chaos, their staffs gleaming with the energies of the Fade. There looked to be at least three score of fighting men still left alive. Most wore the simple armor of Ferelden soldiers, but there were several dwarves clad in the blocky armor of their own people.

Kallian hardly noticed any of it. Her attention was on the Archdemon.

It stood almost in the center of the area like a nightmare made manifest. Though larger than the dragon they had faced outside of Andraste's tomb, the Archdemon's body was also much more slender and serpentine in appearance. Its purple scales were whorled with a sickly black coloration, and the gaunt, waxen look of its flesh reminded Kallian of a plague victim. Where its eyes should have been, there were only two milky orbs that were out of place on a living thing. It was a terrifying and doubtlessly dangerous beast, but she felt none of the awe that had first filled her when she had seen that first dragon. This Archdemon was wretched; a corpse brought to life as a twisted mockery of what it once had been.

She studied it just long enough to see that its wings were burned and crippled by whatever magic the mages had worked. A long shaft of a ballista's bolt jutted form its front-left shoulder, and a translucent serum ebbed from the wound.

Alistair moved forward, shouting a rallying cry to some of the nearby soldiers. Kallian did not follow immediately. She wanted to watch the Archdemon for a moment longer in the hopes of seeing an exploitable weakness. It was wounded and unable to fly, but the massive creature did not seemed panicked as it blasted a plume of purplish fire at a cowering group of soldiers. Kallian supposed that she would not be worried either if she could reincarnate endlessly.

It soon became clear that she would have to make up a plan as she went. Holding her sword at the ready, she squared her shoulders and started to rush forward. It would be a matter of closing the distance without getting incinerated. From there, she would try to stab it. Her sword cut through most things, so it should at least—

"_Hush, elfling, your time is at end."_

The voice burst into Kallian's head like a shattering of glass. Taken entirely by surprise, she skidded to a halt only a few steps from where she had begun. A sudden, intense chill overtook her as though she had just landed in a snow drift. Gasping as her breath froze in her lungs, Kallian found herself collapsing onto her hands and knees. Her vision blurred in and out of focus even as a second oppressive chill raced along her spine.

"_The rest is for me, and I've waited a very long time."_ The voice pounded against her eardrums and reverberated through her bones. _"It is better if you go quietly. You've already accepted death, why not embrace it a few moments sooner? Here, I'll help you along."_

The collar around her neck grew frigid. It became so cold that Kallian could feel her skin burning. She called at her throat helplessly as a soundless scream whistled past her lips. The bronze collar constricted and vibrated wildly like it was trying to twist itself free. A dull clang of metal filled her ears, and the rounded ends of the collar sprang apart all at once.

"…O-Oh…" The creeping dread of realization seized her as she lifted a trembling hand to the broken collar. "Oh _shit_…"

There was a rushing sensation, and then darkness, and then Kallian Tabris knew no more.

…

xxXxx

…

The first breath was the sweetest. It swelled in his new lungs like the promise of better things to come. He became aware of the smell of blood, the taste of the ashy air, and the rough texture of the stone rooftop beneath him. The very act of experiencing sensation was almost paralyzing. He never imagined that sensory input could be so overwhelming.

But, now was hardly the time to linger on such things. A wave of Cold energy swept through his body and banished the feelings before they could distract him further. There was work to be done and he needed to act quickly. The elfling's body was functional enough, but his essence was not meant to be housed in a mortal. Before long, this fragile shell would start to unravel.

Drawing in another invigorating breath, he stood slowly and stretched out his limbs. Muscles flexed and bunched at his command, and the stiff joints made soft popping sounds as he experimented with his vessel's limitations. The Cold, smothering entirety of his essence felt constrained in the elfling's slight form. It was a small indignity that he would have to endure for only a while longer. Once he had secured a foothold in this world, he would construct a body better suited to his magnificence.

A loud shriek drew his attention. Looking up, he beheld something that made him smile. The Old God Urthemiel was no longer as fair and graceful as it once had been, but he still found the sight of it beautiful. It was akin to a prisoner seeing sunlight through the bars of his cage. Freedom came in many forms, but he would personally only find it in this poor, ancient relic.

He started moving forward eagerly. The elfling's sword hung in his right hand as a comfortable weight. Odd that she could carry it for so many months and still remain ignorant of its power. An enchanted starmetal sword was a fitting tool for the work to come. It had been made by those who needed to bring death to dangerous foes, and nothing in this world was more dangerous than an Old God brought low by the timeless curse.

As he passed by a group of living humans, one golden-haired specimen stepped in front of his path and flung out a hand to impede his progress. "Kallian, wait! We need to gather some men—"

He cuffed the human idly across the face and smirked when he heard the creature's jaw shatter. Already unconscious, the human flew back several feet before landing in a heap. The rest of the nearby cattle shrank away with startled exclamations. He did not even spare them a glance as he resumed his steady march forward. There would time enough to toy with the mortals after he had manifested on this plane properly. That is, if there were any left to play with. Urthemiel had killed so many of them that he could hardly walk without stepping on the charred, torn corpses of human and dwarf-folk. Such temporary things these mortals were.

The great dragon loomed up before him as a statue of matte-purple stone. Its attention was focused on incinerating a cluster of dwarf-folk who released a chorus of very pleasing screams as they burned. As much as he appreciated an artist at work, he knew that it was time to make himself known. Flinging his arms out wide, he laughed and screamed out a challenge in a language that this world had never before heard. "Ancient thing! Do you recognize me? For I recognize you. I see where you have fallen and what you have become. Let me free you of this shame. Come and find your final rest!"

His vessel's mouth was poorly suited to form words in the old tongue, but the message was legible. The Old God's massive head whipped forward so that its blank eyes were locked onto his form. Cracked, scaly lips pulled back to expose two rows of rotten teeth as Urthemiel answered with a rumbling growl. Wretched as it was, Urthemiel still had presence of mind to recognize an old acquaintance.

With a roar like a hundred storms, the dragon's mouth yawned open to unleash a screaming torrent of purple fire. He leapt to the side in order to avoid the lethal flames before turning his momentum in a rapid dash forward. The starmetal sword gleamed in his hand as his Cold essence seethed joyfully through his vessel's limbs. It had been far too many lifetimes since he had last known the simple joy of killing something.

He crossed the forty yards that separated him from his foe in the span of two breaths. Urthemiel's head coiled backwards like a serpent's before lashing forward in an attempt to catch him between its teeth. Vaulting over the snapping jaws, he twisted in midair to land between dragon's forelegs in a neat crouch.

Whirling about, he jabbed the point of his sword between the bones of Urthemiel's right ankle. Sinews and corded muscles snapped apart as he twisted the impossibly sharp blade. The dragon immediately jerked the hamstrung limb away, almost ripping his sword from his hand.

If the wound pained the Old God, there was no sign. Its immediate response to the attack was to push off its good paw and swing the injured one at him like a clawed battering ram. He sprang backwards from the heavy blow and then was forced even further back as the dragon lowered its head to snap at him once again.

Distance would be the deciding factor in this conflict. If he was able to remain close to Urthemiel, the dragon would be unable to breathe fire with any true efficacy. Weaving sharply around a second swing of that crippled paw, he poured some of his Cold essence into the muscles of the elfling's legs and forced them to respond with more force than they should have been able.

His leap carried him ten yards into the air and well within reach of the dragon's neck. Urthemiel pulled back to avoid the swing of his sword, but the attack had been little more than a feint in any case.

When he landed, the shock of impact made the elfing's knees buckle. Reinforcing them with a burst of Cold, he ducked under Urthemiel's right arm and cut back at the weakened ankle as he dashed past. He sprinted along the dragon's right side, circling around as the larger creature attempted to follow his movements.

The exposed flank of his opponent provided an inviting target, but he rushed right by without even slowing. His target was the long, bony expanse of the dragon's shin. Augmented by his momentum and a fresh surge of Cold, the leaf-shaped blade of his sword bit though the armored skin to hammer against the dense bone beneath. It was not enough to sever or destroy the limb, but a sharp cracking sound signified that his sword had done its damage.

Urthemiel howled in outrage as he tried to yank the weapon free from the stubborn bone. It took him three sharp jerks to dislodge the weapon, and the delay cost him.

Before he could retreat to safety, Urthemiel lashed out with a kick that caught him on the left side. The glancing blow knocked him backwards in a wild tumble. He sprang back up quickly, but not quick enough to avoid the ball of fire that exploded at his feet.

The concussive force of fireball was extreme. He was lifted off his feet for a second time and blown backwards like a dry leaf in a gust of wind. After being airborne for almost four seconds, he impacted heavily with the stone rooftop. The elfling's left wrist made a loud snapping sound when he used it to break his fall, but the true surprise came when the breath was driven from his lungs. It inhibited his movement in a way that he did not anticipate, forcing him to animate the elfling's body with the Cold just to keep it into motion.

As he stood once more, he noticed that the stone beneath his feet was vibrating rhythmically. He looked up to find Urthemiel approaching with a limping gait that heavily favored its left side. The dragon opened its maw as if to unleash another blast of fire, but before it could do so, a long ballista quarrel abruptly slammed into the left side of its ribs. The Old God lurched to the side and barked in surprise.

A glance over in the direction of where the bolt had come from revealed a team of humans frantically trying to reload the last remaining siege weapon. He smiled at the irony. If these mortals knew what he was, he doubted they would be so quick to render assistance. In all likelihood, they would soon come to regret not turning their weapon on him instead.

Still, their efforts distracted Urthemiel long enough for him to gather his bearings. The exposed skin on his vessel's arms and face was now red and blistered from dragon fire, but none of that pain translated through the insulating layers of Cold. The fall had caused the elfling's arm to break, a sizeable lump on the forearm indicating where the cracked bone was pushing out against the skin. Irritated by the frailty, he grabbed hold of his left wrist and bent the arm so that the bones were wrenched back into an approximation of their original shape. The limb would be far less useful now, but it would still retain a modicum of functionality.

Of greater concern was that he could feel the elfling's heart beating at a furious rate. This body was not meant to move as fast as he was demanding, nor strike with as much force as he needed. The strain of housing his essence was taking its toll. The elfing's muscles were already shredded and torn, but if this continued for much longer, they would be rendered useless. He would have to end this soon or risk losing everything.

With that, he summoned the Cold and rushed forward like a pike moving downstream. Urthemiel was preoccupied with destroying the weapon that had caused it harm, and he was able to approach almost unnoticed. Putting on a burst of speed when the dragon finally turned back to look for him, he ran up along its left side and leapt high into the air once again.

He landed directly on the ballista quarrel that jutted out from the dragon's side. Using it like a spring board, he let it launch him even further up onto the massive creature's back. He scrambled for purchase against the smooth scales before grabbing hold of a spiky protrusion that was raised along Urthemiel's spine.

His grip was initially tenuous due to the injury to his left arm, but a surge of Cold as all it took to lock the elfing's muscles in an unyielding grip. Urthemiel did not take kindly to its new passenger. Hissing sharply, it shook itself in an attempt to dislodge him. He bucked with the writhing creature and focused on maintaining his grip as he maneuvered into a more stable position.

The base of the Old God's left wing was almost beside his head. Gripping the dragon's back between his legs, he let go of his handhold just long enough to take his sword in both hands. He drew every iota of his Cold essence into the elfing's arms and shoulders before burying the sword deep down into the joint that connected the wing to Urthemiel's body.

The dragon screamed and started to thrash with true desperation. Each movement only jerked the sword around, sawing away as the enchanted metal easily sliced through flesh and hollow bone alike. He let the Old God do most of the work for him before pulling the sword free. The wing was half-removed by this point, and a second chopping swing severed the majority of the remaining ligaments.

Gravity took care of the rest. With a wet, sucking sound, the leathery appendage slammed down against the rooftop. Great streams of clear ichor spurted from the wound in powerful bursts. Urthemiel shrieked its agony to fiery sky above, but the real injury was yet to come. Without the balancing weight of the left wing, the Old God suddenly found itself trying to support the burden of its other wing on two crippled limbs. It swayed in place for few seconds before the injuries gave way and it started to topple over.

He did not remain idle. As Urthemiel began to collapse to the right, he stood up on its back and ran forward. It was difficult to maintain footing on the slick, tilting surface, but he made it to the ball of Urthemiel's left shoulder and leapt off with his sword raised overhead.

Jackknifing about in midair, he turned enough to drive the point of the weapon deep into the side of Urthemiel's neck. Like an anchor, the sword dug deep into the vulnerable area. His weight bore it downwards even as the tough, scaly flesh slowed his descent.

Their murderous fall came to an abrupt end when the Old God's head slammed against the ground. The impact jarred him loose, and he tumbled free of the dying beast.

He got to his feet and was knocked off them almost instantly. The entire world spun as some part of the thrashing dragon hit him in the side of the legs with enough force to flip him over completely. Landing heavily on his stomach, he had to flood his vessel with Cold in order to prevent the elfling's overtaxed body from slipping into unconsciousness.

He could hear Urthemiel groaning as it succumbed to its injuries. Rather than risk his vessel's heart giving out, he chose to get to his feet cautiously. Almost immediately, he realized that his right leg was not responding as it should. He carefully rolled onto his back and looked down the length of his stolen body. The right leg was utterly ruined. Whatever had struck him had dislocated the knee joint and turned the lower portion of the limb into a twisted mess. A significant length of shin bone was protruding through the leather clothing on his leg, and he knew without a doubt that the limb would not bear weight.

Such concerns were incidental. The condition of this body was largely irrelevant. Using his arms to push himself up, he managed to stand with no small amount of difficulty. Urthemiel's bulk was spread out around him like a small hill. Its chest still rose and fell, but he could see that death was imminent.

The mortals surrounding the two of them were cheering at the Old God's defeat. Ignorant fools, blessedly ignorant fools.

He pivoted slowly and started moving toward Urthemiel's head, dragging his useless leg behind him. His sword was lost somewhere in the ragged ruin of the dragon's neck, so he looked around for something to replace it. A soot-stained broadsword a few yards to the left of the dragon's forepaw caught his eye. He diverted his course just long enough to laboriously pluck it from the ground before continuing on. It took a while to circle around to Urthemiel's head, but eventually he stood beside it with the broadsword held loosely in his hand.

"You've had a long time in this place." He gazed down into the empty, white orb of the Old God and readied the sword above his head. "And you have squandered the opportunity. It's time to give someone else a turn. That will be better, don't you think?"

The last word was punctuated with a sharp downwards thrust into Urthemiel's eye socket. A tremor ran through the dragon's entire body before it went still. Leaving the weapon embedded in the corpse, he stepped backwards and waited for deliverance.

It was so fortunate that he had found this vessel. So few of the elf-folk still bore his gift, and this was the first of them to carry the same tainted blood as the Old Gods. He had scarcely believed his luck when he had felt her presence awaken in the Fade. It was so good to know that patience could be rewarded after so many years.

Only a handful of seconds went by before the Old God's soul began to manifest. It poured forth from the dragon's corpse like a billion tiny motes of white light; all of them seeking a new destination. He stepped forward eagerly, spreading his arms out wide as if to embrace this promise of freedom.

The Light soared into his breast, attracted by the familiar blood in his host's veins. It filled him with a sensation that was more potent than life itself. He could feel true, unadulterated power beginning to mingle with the Cold energy of his being. The Old God was a thing since time immemorial, and its essence was that of the world itself.

And the Light. Oh, the wonderful Light.

It surged through and about him like an endless flurry of stars. There was so much power here; power enough to tear open the Fade and form a profane bridge between dream and reality. He would use this Light to truly cross over. No longer would he languish in the realm of lies. It would finally be his chance to experience life and everything that came with it.

And, when he arrived, this world would change. No longer would mortals rise from sleep and feel safe from the terrors of their imagination. His name would fall from their lips in pleas and horrified whispers. Those that worshipped him might live longer than the rest, but eventually all life would cease in accordance with his will.

He laughed then, indulgent in his victory. There was nothing that would challenge him now. More and more of the Old God's soul poured into his own, adding the terrible strength that already resided there. It was like feeling the warmth of a fire on a cold night.

And he could see life. He could see all the tiny sparks of it that resided in everything that moved, breathed, and died on this glorious shpere. He could see it not only in the nearby mortals, but also sense it in those far across seas and under mountains. This world was fertile ground of life, and he would be the harvester.

But then, it was all too much.

He did not panic as the Old God's essence became overwhelming. It was something he had anticipated. Even an entity such as himself could not withstand power of that magnitude. No matter, he already had more than enough. It was time to retreat back into the Fade. To gather his power and use this new gift to shatter the boundaries that kept him. Smiling to himself, he started to pull back in the dreaming realm. The elfling's body was at the point of death now. He would be back in a new form soon enough.

Only, he could not quite seem to retreat.

It was an occurrence that was baffling. The Fade was loath to let things leave, but it never hesitated to let them in. Nothing should have precluded him from returning. He tried once again without any success. The familiar pull of the Fade was still there as it always had been. Something was just keeping him here.

He was suddenly very aware of the Light streaming into his soul. It was as though his consciousness was swelling to an uncomfortable degree. A very foreign sensation of fear crept into his thoughts as he made another unsuccessful attempt to escape back into the Fade. This was not how things worked! The Fade turned nothing away. It was the universal constant that all things were a part of.

The Old God's soul did not slow in its insistent advance. If anything, the flood of Light only grew faster and more urgent with every passing instant. Spurned by a growing sense of peril, he abandoned the attempts to flee and started fighting. The entirety of the Cold pushed back against the consuming energy in a desperate attempt to shove it away. It was a vain gesture. He could no more order the Light away than command the sea to stand still. It continued in spite of his efforts, and it brought pain with it.

He was unprepared to feel agony. It was a sensation that had never before had a place in his existence. As the layers of Cold were burned away like undergrowth, he experienced this new concept in his entirety. It was a terrible, searing blaze that made him howl and collapse to ground as it raged through his vessel like a billion tiny deaths. His body began to convulse, bringing a physical pain to join the spiritual one. He could feel his major organs failing under the stress of the assault, and the violence of the convulsions was such that both of his shoulders had dislocated. The bright glare of Light stabbed into his eyes even after he had closed them, and his ears echoed with the shrill wail of his own screams.

This was all wrong. He had planned this perfectly and there was nothing to explain the failure. As his essence unraveled and he felt himself fading, the only thought he could entertain was how close he had come. He unleashed one final howl of frustration and agony in the bare second before disintegrating into oblivion.

The empty shell of the elfling lingered behind as the Light flickered and then subsided. A few twitching spasm ran along its length as the confused signals of its nervous system began to fade. A single, whistling exhalation fell from its lips, and then it went perfectly still.

…

xxXxx

* * *

A/N: Ok, so one more chapter to go. I apologize for the endless stream of cliffhangers. I swear that I did not plan to do that, it just sorta happened. If everything goes as I intend it to, the next chapter should answer the questions that this one raised.

Special thanks to my beta Gorg for being awesome. Also, thank you to everyone who is reading! I'd greatly appreciate any reviews that you are willing to leave. I went a bit off the farm with the final battle, so I'd love to know how that worked for readers.

Till next time!


	47. All Alright

**A/N: So...been a while. I hope the fact that this is twice the size of an ordinary chapter makes up for it! In any case, I hope you all enjoy the final chapter of Thorns! I made a few last minute edits, so let me know if there are any glaring typos that jump out at you.  
**

Chapter 47: All Alright

-Denerim-

* * *

xxXxx

...

Wynne stepped through the doorway and out onto the roof of Fort Drakon only to be greeted with an overwhelming commotion.

Everywhere she looked, soldiers were standing in loose clumps or else rushing about on some errand or another. Many carried torches, but most of the available light was being produced by several large bonfires that had been hastily erected across the vast rooftop. Shouted orders, the pounding of many boots on stone, and the moaning cries of the wounded mingled in the air to create a chaotic medley.

She gaped about at the chaos until a knight in full plate shouted at her to clear the passageway. Feeling foolish, she rushed to step aside just as three men with loads of bandages came up the stairs behind her. They hurried off to the right, and looking over in the direction, Wynne saw that a makeshift field hospital had been set up against the wall of the keep. It was nothing more than several dozen pallets and a few wooden tables set aside for healing or amputation. Every single one of the simple beds was occupied by a patient, and Wynne recognized several Circle mages as they moved about to administer healing.

Mages would be in short supply tonight, and once they were exhausted, it would be up to the conventional surgeons to tend to the wounded. That brand of medicine was a grisly affair at the best of times, but in the aftermath of a battle, it would be especially unkind.

Ordinarily, Wynne would have hurried over to lend whatever aid she could, but before she did, she wanted to make certain that Alistair was alive. She had heard a report that he was injured, and Ferelden needed its king now more than ever. If he was injured, he needed the best care available.

It was not hard to guess where he and the others might be. Even in the flickering firelight, she could make out the shadowy bulk of the Archdemon's corpse near the center of the rooftop. The soldiers were giving it a generous berth, but from the way they kept breaking away from their conversations to glance over at it, Wynne knew that its presence was weighing heavily on everyone's mind.

She started hobbling over in that direction, weaving through the throngs of soldiers as best she could. Her entire body ached like she had been beaten, and her head was pounding from the strain of using so much magic in a single day. Lyrium and stimulants were the only things holding her together. The worst part was that she knew her work was far from done. It was going to be a very long next few days.

"…elf carved the soddin' thing to pieces. Never seen the like, 'ave you?"

Wynne paused and looked over at the nearest group of soldiers. Three of them stood nearby, two men and a woman. The speaker was one of the men, a beefy fellow with a bushy mustache and plenty of Darkspawn blood drying on his chainmail. He was squinting over in the general direction of the Archdemon.

The female soldier answered him in a muttering tone. "Sure, I've seen plenty of people kill a dragon single-handed. Damn close to boring by this point."

"No call to be testy." The man harrumphed and turned to his other companion. "How 'bout you? Did ya' ever see someone move like that? She was a bloody miracle against that thing."

The other man grunted. "Don't know what I saw, and I don't like it neither. That whole business with the light an' everythin? Made my skin crawl, it did."

"Aye. No tellin' what that was about. What do you reckon, Cass?"

"That elf was a Warden. She was the one to put a blade in old' Loghain." The woman made a neutral sound that gave no clue to how she felt on that subject. "Wardens are an odd sort. All I know is she saved us from that monster. Don't care about the particulars, really."

Wynne resumed walking with a sense of dread. Kallian had killed the Archdemon and there was nothing to be done about it. She only hoped that the others had lived through the experience. It grew darker as she moved away from the bonfires, so Wynne spared a brief moment to conjure a bluish wisp of light. It followed her as she walked, bobbing along at shoulder height and providing sufficient illumination.

As she drew close to the Archdemon's corpse, a profound sense of relief flooded her chest as she recognized Alistair by the sheen of his brilliant plate armor. A pair of Circle mages stood close by, but they did not look up as Wynne approached. Her eyes were drawn to the Archdemon out of morbid fascination. The beast looked as though its body had been torn apart by a giant. One great wing was completely ripped off at the root, and its throat bore a terrible, gaping wound. Wynne could not look away even as she slowed to halt in front of Alistair. Horrible as it was, this was a creature that few people would ever see. She almost wished that she could have studied it while it was still alive.

The thought was inappropriate, and she quickly shook it off before turning her attention to Alistair. He stood with his arms hanging limply at his sides and his eyes downcast. His handsome features were locked into a pained grimace that was likely the result of the large bruise that dominated the right portion of his face. Surprised by the injury, Wynne stepped closer out of concern. "Dear Maker! Are you alright?"

"I'm okay." The words came out garbled and rough as though Alistair were speaking around a mouthful of marbles. "Broken jaw and cheekbone. Mages fixed most of it. I'll wait until later to get the rest done."

Wynne glanced over at the pair of mages. One of them was Enchanter Tristan, a capable if somewhat uncreative healer. The other was a younger girl whom Wynne thought she recognized from a class she had taught last year. Tristan caught her eye and acknowledged her with a nod. She returned it before lifting her hand up to touch Alistair's jaw. "No need to wait. Just give me a moment."

The magic gathered in her palm like a ticklish breeze. Murmuring the words to a basic healing spell, she directed the energy into Alistair's body and let the Creation magic do the rest. Broken bones were difficult for many healers, but Wynne had always found them to be straightforward. It was just a matter of setting things right and easing discomfort.

She noticed that Alistair seemed lost in thought, and tried to draw him back into the present. "So, how did this happen?"

"Bad luck."

Wynne finished her spell and withdrew her hand. "Plenty of that going around, tonight."

"Yeah. Thanks, Wynne." Alistair's voice came out much more clearly, but his tone was hollow. He absently touched his freshly healed jaw with one hand before gesturing at the dragon. "Kallian did it."

"So I see." Wynne masked the dull sorrow that settled in her chest. Knowing the outcome in advance did not make it any less painful. "Where is she now?"

Wordlessly, Alistair jerked his head off to the left. Wynne looked over in the direction he indicated and saw for the first time that Leliana was present and standing over a motionless figure. A nimbus of amber-colored flames surrounded the prone body like a blanket of frozen fire. Someone had cast a stasis field, but Wynne wished they had not wasted the energy. Even if she could heal Kallian's body, there was little that she could do to reverse the damage the Archdemon had caused to Kallian's soul.

Alistair spoke after a few seconds of silence. "Could you talk to Leliana? I'm really worried about her. She hasn't said much of anything since she got here, and seeing Kallian like that isn't doing her any good."

"I'll do what I can." Wynne looked over at the Orlesian woman and tried to decide what she would say to her. To stall the inevitable conversation, she asked Alistair a question. "What of the others? I know Zevran is back near the markets."

"Morrigan is somewhere hereabouts. Sten and Oghren should still be at the north gate unless they decided otherwise. I don't know how Leliana got here. She showed about ten minutes after Kallian killed the Archdemon."

"I can't say either; we parted ways a few hours ago."

"She probably saw the Archdemon's death and made a guess. Poor thing."

Wynne sighed and started walking toward Leliana. "I'll go speak with her. You should come along."

Alistair murmured a soft agreement and fell in a few steps behind her, but as they drew close to where Leliana was waiting, he dropped back considerably. Wynne glanced at him, but continued onwards. He had dealt with enough responsibility for one day. She could handle this much on her own.

Leliana did not appear to register Wynne's presence as she came to stand beside her. She was standing perfectly straight with her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts. Her face was pale to the point of being bloodless, and she was staring down at Kallian's body with a concerning lack of emotion. Wynne waited for the other woman to register her presence until it became clear that Leliana was somewhere far away. Wetting her lips, she spoke up in the gentlest voice she could manage. "Leliana?"

The bard startled and looked over. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"I'm fine, but the mages...they, uh..." Leliana swallowed, and then cleared her throat softly. "They won't let me hold her."

Wynne flinched in sympathy. Lifting an arm, she placed it around Leliana's shoulders and hugged the younger woman. "They don't want you to get hurt. It's better not to come in contact with an active stasis field."

"Alright." Leliana trembled in her embrace. The bard's eyes were bloodshot and glassy with the strain of repressed emotion. "Is…is there anything you can do for her?"

Wynne did not immediately respond. Kallian's physical wounds were extreme, but it had been the spiritual ones that had killed her. Even if Wynne could heal the visible injuries, there was no way to reverse death. "I'll see what I can do."

Leliana mumbled her thanks and moved aside so that Wynne could have access to Kallian's body. For the first time, Wynne gazed down at the elf through the semi-translucent flames of the stasis field. It was not an encouraging picture. Kallian's limbs were hideously contorted in a manner that could only suggest severe fractures. Trails of blood streaked from her nose, mouth, and even from her ears. Her eyes were open, but they were dull and lacking the indefinable spark that signified a living thing.

Wynne breathed deeply and tried to remove herself from the situation. She forced herself to think of Kallian as a patient and nothing more. Objectivity was a healer's single most important attribute. She channeled a current of energy through her staff before kneeling down to get a better look at her patient.

She let her magic pierce through the stasis field and enter the prone body before her. The injuries she initially encountered were grievous, but ordinary. Most readily apparent were the broken bones in the right leg and left arm. The left arm was an easy fix, but it was unlikely that the leg could be salvaged. Three of the patient's left ribs were also broken, but not to the point where they might threaten additional injury to internal organs. Several large contusions were spread out over the front and back of the torso. Both shoulders were dislocated and it looked as though there were cracks running along the clavicle.

Those injuries were straightforward. Far more worrisome was the massive internal bleeding. Wynne could see evidence of recent cardiac arrest as well as a significant quantity of blood in the patient's lungs. Most of the exposed skin suffered 2nd-degree burns which presented a risk of infection if left untreated. Far and away the most unusual of the patient's injuries was the pronounced and widespread muscle fatigue. It was as though every single muscle group had been grossly overworked past the point of failure and ordinary tearing. The extensive muscle damage extended to the heart and diaphragm; presenting a significant concern should the patient be removed from the stasis field.

Wynne dispelled the magic she had collected and stood up straight. The only good news that she had found was that there was no cranial bleeding or spinal injury. It was a small blessing that did not matter much in the long run. Kallian's body had been severely damaged by whatever the Archdemon had done to her. More to the point, there was no trace of Kallian's soul present in her body. A mage could heal and resuscitate, but there was a limit to all things. Once a person's spirit crossed over into death, nothing could ever truly bring them back.

She avoided looking over at Leliana. Instead, she waved a hand to get Tristan's attention. The other mage broke away from his conversation and strode over to join them. "Wynne, good to see that you are well. We feared the worst after you left with the Wardens."

"The feeling is mutual, Tristan." Wynne flashed him a quick, forced smile before gesturing toward Kallian. "I wanted to ask if there was a particular reason you put her in stasis. It's not exactly common treatment procedure."

Tristan glanced down at Kallian and shrugged. "Can't say. I didn't raise it and I can pretty much guarantee that none of our healers did either. Stasis fields eat up too much mana and we are all under orders to conserve whenever possible."

"Well, someone must have cast it."

A familiar voice sounded from somewhere behind Wynne's back. "That would be me."

Wynne turned to find that Morrigan had come up beside Alistair. The witch was regarding them all with an expression that spoke of trouble. Wynne frowned at her. She was surprised that Morrigan could work such a complex creation spell. Last time she had checked, Morrigan was scarcely able to heal a paper cut. "You did?"

"No need to sound surprised." Morrigan lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "Seeing as I have little talent for healing, I thought it best to leave her to more capable hands. I cast it shortly after she fell. A half-minute at the most."

Wynne traded a skeptical glance with Tristan. Establishing a stasis field in that timeframe was quick even for an experienced healer. Although she doubted that Morrigan was capable of what she claimed, Wynne could think of no reason for why the witch might lie. "It was good thinking, Morrigan. You might have saved her life under different circumstances."

Morrigan arched a brow. "But not in this case?"

"There's a chance we could heal her physical injuries, but her soul is completely gone. There's nothing I can do to fix that." Wynne delivered the news as gently as possible. Placing a hand on Leliana's back, she lowered her voice to murmur a more private condolence. "I am so sorry, Leliana. I wish that things were different."

Leliana closed her eyes tightly before jerking her head in a tight nod. Turning so that her face was hidden, the bard walked several feet away to stand apart from the group. A moment later, Alistair released a harsh exclamation of breath and made his way over to join Leliana. The two of them exchanged a few hushed words that Wynne could not make out, and then Alistair cautiously pulled Leliana into a hug. It was all the prompting she needed to sag against him as though her strength had given out.

Wynne let her gaze drift back down to settle on Kallian. It was difficult to look at a dead body and still see the person that she had called friend. The pale cast of Kallian's skin was foreign, and the elf simply did not look the same without a smirk on her lips. Wynne could not stop noticing how young Kallian looked. When she had been alive, Kallian's aggressive attitude had made it easy to overlook her age. Now though, she just looked like a young woman that had died in a horrible way.

"My, but she does look a fright, doesn't she?"

Wynne stirred from her reverie and looked over at Morrigan in surprise. The other woman had come up beside her without making a sound, and was now staring down at Kallian's body with a curious sort of smile. Confused by the sudden question, Wynne responded automatically. "I'm sorry?

"I was remarking on her appearance. 'Tis hardly an impressive sight. I suppose the singers will have to bend the truth when they tell of her triumph."

Wynne frowned sharply. This was not the time for Morrigan to display her wicked tongue. "Is it truly beyond you to show a modicum of respect? Kallian deserves that whether you possess the humanity to recognize it or not."

Morrigan chuckled and responded in a voice that was clearly meant to carry. "Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. I simply think that 'tis a touch foolish to grieve for someone who isn't yet dead."

The words prompted a lull in which the background clamor of the soldiers suddenly seemed very loud. Neither Alistair nor Leliana reacted at once, but after a few seconds, both turned to look back at Morrigan in silent question. For her part, Wynne could only glare at Morrigan as she tried to understand what the other woman had meant. "This is not the time for games, Morrigan."

"I quite agree. On that subject, I can only express disappointment that a supposedly accomplished healer could fail so spectacularly in an examination." Morrigan pulled an object free of her belt and tossed it at Wynne's feet with a metallic clatter. "Consider this before you accuse me of making mockery."

Wynne recognized the battered circle of metal in an instant. Her eyes snapped over to Kallian's body and focused on the elf's bare neck. "The Aegis was removed."

"Yes, and I fear Kallian was not herself when she killed the Archdemon." Morrigan indicated the bronze collar with a significant look. "There are a great many implications to that, but as time is very short, I suggest that you simply take a closer look at her."

"I saw enough, Morrigan. Her soul is completely absent."

"Which would ordinarily suggest death, but then Kallian is far from ordinary." A flicker of her earlier amusement returned to Morrigan's eyes. "'Tis not the first time her spirit has proven elusive. Search for her on a deeper level. I assure you that the effort will not be wasted."

Feeling her headache growing even worse, Wynne searched Morrigan's face for some sign of deception. Morrigan was behaving oddly, but there was nothing to suggest that she was being anything short of serious. Wynne glanced away from Morrigan long enough to notice Alistair and Leliana watching her hopefully. If this was just an impossibly cruel joke on Morrigan's part, then Wynne swore she would make her pay for it.

With an inward sigh, she gathered her magic once again and knelt down by Kallian's body. There was no point in attempting another cursory diagnosis. If there was any hint of Kallian left, then Wynne was not going to find it on a physical level. This was going to require a more dangerous approach. Shutting her eyes out of concentration, Wynne extended her magic and opened her mind to the Fade.

Perceiving the world in terms of magical energy was a difficult sensation to describe. When the first pulse of her magic sounded forth from her mind, Wynne abruptly stopped experiencing any of the traditional five senses. The absolute blindness was always disconcerting, but those normal sensations would only distract from the information that was soon to come.

As the magical pulse came in contact with her surroundings, it rebounded back to her like the echo of piercing cry. Through it, she could intimately feel every inch of the cold, lifeless stone of Fort Drakon as it stretched out beneath her. As the magic spread further, Wynne began to notice warm beacons of light that signified each living soul around the tower. Most were little more than dull gleams on the horizon of her awareness, but those belonging to the Circle mages were substantially brighter as a result of their magic.

Her enhanced perception also revealed the indistinct afterimage of the Fade. The dreaming realm was omnipresent, sharing a connection with everyone and everything, but it was simultaneously nonexistent; a construct of dreams and imaginations given structure by the magic that flowing through it. Mages did not often open their minds in this manner. While it certainly increased the risk of attracting a demon, the real concern was that a careless mage might perceive more of the Fade then they were meant to. Mortals were not meant to comprehend oblivion, not even a fraction of it.

Even though she knew the onslaught was coming, Wynne was still taken unawares by the sheer quantity of information. There was no way to easily adjust to having an abrupt and perfect spatial awareness of everything around you. It was not unlike being in a crowded room in which everyone spoke at once.

But, if that were the case, then Kallian was shouting.

Wynne perceived her as a bonfire blazing against starless night. Her mind shrank from the blaze of power that shown from Kallian with painful intensity. She tried to concentrate, but it was like trying to force oneself to stare into the sun. Withdrawing her magic back quickly, Wynne took deep breaths to regain her composure.

_What in the Maker's name was that about? _

Her best guess was that Kallian's body was still completely suffused with the Archdemon's power. It made sense on an academic level. After all, there had to be a few side-effects to channeling a god through one's body. Wynne decided that while it was an interesting discovery, it was hardly enough to justify this level of observation. There would need to be further study if anything relevant was to be found. She braced herself and sent out another magical pulse.

Stabbing jolts of pain dug into her skull as her magic touched Kallian's body once more. Gritting her teeth against the agony, Wynne forced herself to look for Kallian's familiar essence. She had spent nearly a week trying to do the exact same thing only under better conditions. This was akin to looking for a tiny fish in an ocean of light. Wynne knew that she would never be able to do this long enough to make any progress. Even if Kallian were still present, finding her might prove impossible.

At least, that was her theory until she noticed a pattern. As her mind grew used to the terrible intensity of the lingering energy, Wynne saw something that did not make any kind of sense. That massive amount of power was not fading or lying inert, it was circulating like the blood of a living thing. In a slow, barely perceptible rhythm, the power was flowing through Kallian's vasculature in a stream of countless sparkling motes.

Wynne did not know what to make of it. Never before had she know magical energy to behave like this. Even in mages, magic typically appeared as a substantial, but always sedate, source of energy. To have it coursing through a body in this manner was simply bizarre.

She was so absorbed in the phenomenon that she nearly missed the most crucial part. As she traced the flow of the magical energy, she realized that it all converged at a point near the center of Kallian's breast. There, a small kernel of power swelled and then ebbed in a passable imitation of heartbeat. Having no idea what it was but certain that it was important, Wynne extended a concentrated burst of her magic to probe at the apparent nexus.

At once, a ghostly silhouette superimposed itself over Kallian's body. Although it was faint against the backdrop of blazing energy, Wynne could just make out slender features that were instantly recognizable. The apparition faded within a few scarce seconds, but it was enough to tell Wynne what she needed to know. Somehow, in direct defiance of what should be possible, Kallian was alive.

Surprise and excitement made Wynne sloppy. For a brief instant, she forgot that her mind was open to the Fade and that Kallian was clinically dead. The only thought that occurred to her was that there was now a chance. Without giving much consideration for what she was doing, she gathered a much more substantial degree of magic and prodded again at the strange focal point.

The silhouette of Kallian's spirit appeared once again and in much starker relief, but with it came a tremendous disturbance. Like still water broken by a thrown rock, the circulating energy in Kallian's body began to fluctuate wildly in response to Wynne magic. It warbled and stuttered in a dazzling display of instability that made Wynne go completely still out of reflex. She could feel the energy spiking at uneven intervals, and the massive burst of power hammered away at her brain like blows from a mallet. Her earlier excitement was now replaced by furious surge of basic terror. Kallian should not have this much energy in her body, and based on the way it was behaving, it was by no means contained.

Wynne kept perfectly still as she waited for the disturbance to settle. It took nearly a minute for the energy to subside back into the steady circulation. With a tremendous amount of care, Wynne slowly began to withdraw her magic from Kallian's form. She was unwilling to risk upsetting whatever precarious balance was keeping this all in check.

It came as a tremendous relief once she was able to pull away entirely. Wynne wasted no time in shutting her mind off from the Fade. Any desire to further examine Kallian had vanished now that Wynne understood the risk involved. As her ordinary senses returned in a familiar rush that was at once both comforting and oddly limiting, Wynne kept her eyes tightly shut and mentally assessed her options.

The simple truth was that Kallian was effectively a cataclysm waiting to happen. Her body currently contained more raw energy than Wynne would have believed possible. The only reason she could think of for why it had not already destabilized was the strange circulation that seemed to be keeping it contained. Should that fail or falter, the immense potential energy in Kallian's body would erupt forth in a single, explosive burst. It would be like several thousand fireball spells going off in the middle of Denerim. When the Archdemon died, its fading soul should have ferried this power into the Fade. Why it was lingering in the mortal realm was a mystery, but the threat it now posed was very real. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Her eyes opened and she drew in a deep breath to steady herself. Her first instinct was to panic, but that was going to help no one. The only certainty she had right now was that Kallian's condition was not a natural occurrence. Someone had tampered with Kallian and the Archdemon's soul, and Wynne held no doubts as to who that might be. Before doing anything else, she wanted a chance to speak with Morrigan alone.

"Wynne?" Leliana crouched down so that she was in Wynne's field of view. Her accent had come out thick and strained with by urgency. "What is it? Did you find something?"

Wynne made a swift decision. "Kallian is alive."

Leliana's eyes widened. Color flooded back into her cheeks, and one of her hands came up to grip Wynne's arm like a vice. "Then we can help her? We can fix this?"

"Don't get too excited, it is not going to be easy." Wynne did not feel the need to explain exactly how much of an understatement that was. Right now, she needed an excuse to get Leliana and Alistair away from Kallian for a time. "I've never seen something like this. Her soul is residing in the Fade, and yet it remains bound to her body."

Alistair cleared his throat. "That sounds…well, I guess I don't know how it sounds. Is that good or bad?"

"It isn't good. Healing her physical injuries is going to be hard enough, but fixing this is going to require a mage to fully enter the Fade. Someone is going to have to literally guide Kallian back to her body."

Leliana flexed her hands as if she could not bear to remain still. "But, there are ways to enter the Fade, yes?"

"That doesn't mean it is easy." Alistair mused as he glanced over at Morrigan. "It's either a massive amount of lyrium or blood magic. Neither of which are exactly common."

"The Circle is here. They must have lyrium."

Wynne shook her head quickly to forestall that suggestion. "They also have hundreds, if not thousands, of wounded men to care for. Our healers are stretched thin as it stands. If we were to requisition the amount of lyrium necessary to enter the Fade, a great many people would die so that Kallian could have a bare chance of making it back. I can't accept that, and based on what she said prior to this battle, I doubt Kallian would like it either."

"Blood magic then." Leliana brushed off Wynne's refusal with a roll of her shoulders. "That mage that tried to kill Arl Eamon. He can help."

Alistair visibly winced. "Eamon had him quietly executed after the Landsmeet. You can't really expect to cause the death of an arlessa and get off with a warning. Besides, do you remember what we had to do with Connor? It would cost someone their life if we wanted to go that route."

Leliana's eyes darted between him and Wynne. "Then what? We let her die?"

"No one is saying that, Leliana. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to save Kallian, but I am going to need your help." Wynne smiled at Leliana in the hopes of placating her. "To start with, I am going to need you to find bandages and elfroot poultices. The soldiers were issued some before the battle, so you can ask them. We could also use some embrium sap from her burns. That will be harder to find, but I'm sure you could find some at the base of the tower. I saw a commissary there on the way up."

Leliana jerked her head into a determined nod. Her entire posture had changed now that she had hope and something constructive to do. "I'll find it."

"Excellent, while she is doing that, I am going to work out something with Enchanter Tristan in regards to healing her wounds. Alistair, I would like you to go find us some extra lyrium. Four vials would do nicely, but I'll warn you that the mages are going to be unwilling to give up even that amount."

A faint smiled played at Alistair's lips. "Let's hope so. I haven't had a chance to throw my kingly authority around for a while."

"Well, what are the two of you waiting for? Go on, we don't have all the time in the world."

Both Leliana and Alistair bolted into action like horses out of the gate. In the time it took Wynne to blink, they were both racing off to attend to the tasks she had given them. She watched them for a moment before turning to Tristan and the other mage whose name Wynne still could not place. They had been watching the entire exchange with the studious indifference of curious onlookers. Wynne waved them closer and gave Tristan a wry grin. ""How do the two of you feel about saving the Hero of Ferelden?"

Tristan glanced down at Kallian with obvious skepticism. "Well, I'm willing to help, of course. I just don't see how we are going to bring her back from the dead."

"Let me worry about that. The two of you just need to focus on getting her body into working order." Wynne mentally ran through the list of Kallian's injuries before continuing. "Right now, I need you to develop a course of treatment. Start with her lungs and heart, and then double-check make sure there is no cranial bleeding. Her left arm, shoulders, and ribs will all heal just fine on their own, so don't waste time or energy on them. Fix her organs and get rid of that internal bleeding. You may need to replenish her blood supply as well."

Tristan's face became perfectly serious as he nodded along with stream of commands. "I'll tell you right now that her leg is going to be a problem. The kneecap is pretty much dust and I'm not good enough to completely fix a compound fracture like that."

"She's going to be crippled regardless of what you do. Stop the bleeding and put her bones where they should be. Leave it at that. If she wakes up, she can decide whether or not she wants the leg amputated. After you have addressed the major injuries, make a judgment call about whether or not her body can handle some muscles repair. A few of her muscle groups have torn away from the bone and I'd like them healed sooner rather than later. Whatever you decide, I want you both to get together and figure out who will be doing what. This needs to be fast."

Looking only slightly overwhelmed, Tristan turned to start speaking with his assistant. Wynne left them to it, praying that they were as capable as she needed them to be. Now that everyone was attending to their tasks, Wynne was left alone with Morrigan. The witch was watching her with a knowing smile that spoke volumes as to how this conversation would go. Sighing to herself, Wynne swept a hand to indicate Kallian's body. "Before we get into the larger question of what on earth you were thinking, I'd like to know how you managed to do this."

"'Tis not a very interesting story unless I explain what I was thinking. I dare say it even seems unimpressive when stripped of the rationale behind it." Morrigan made no effort to deny her involvement. In fact, she seemed almost pleased that Wynne was asking her. "But, if you insist, I managed this by giving Kallian a necklace and then letting everyone else do all the hard work."

Wynne looked down at Kallian's neck and noticed a thin leather cord. Most of the trinket was concealed beneath the elf's breastplate. "A necklace?"

"Yes, she was under the impression that it was a childhood memento of mine, so there is no need to feel betrayed by her complacency. Before you bother asking, let me tell you that in actuality, 'twas a bespelled lodestone."

It was not what Wynne had expected. The moment Morrigan had said necklace, thoughts of cursed amulets and swamp-witch fetishes had filled her mind. A simple lodestone did not seem like the type of thing that could influence a power as great as the Archdemon's. Lodestones were fairly common and had limited application outside of enchanting work. Their expressive purpose was to limit or facilitate a transfer of energy. But even if that is what Morrigan had intended, there was no way a lodestone could handle the sheer volume of energy that was currently in Kallian's body. Transferring all of that power through a lodestone was roughly equivalent to attempting to coax an enraged bull through a keyhole. "That doesn't add up. Regardless of what spell you've put on a lodestone, it would have shattered the instant you tried to transfer the power."

"Who said I wish to transfer the power? Perhaps I'm happy to leave it precisely where it is."

Wynne gave her a sharp frown. "You shouldn't be. If that energy goes unstable, most of this city is going to be rubble within a matter of seconds."

"Then we would be well-advised to stabilize it."

"And how might we do that?"

Morrigan chuckled softly. "Where is the fun is simply telling you?"

"_Morrigan_."

"Very well, but I shall have to start with the beginning." The witch rolled her shoulders and made of show of gathering her thoughts. "I feel 'tis important to note that Kallian's murderous little problem was caused by a denizen of the Fade. My guess would be a demon, but honestly I have no idea."

Wynne made a noncommittal noise. She had considered demonic influence, but Kallian had never displayed the physical signs of possession. "Do you have any evidence to support this?"

"None, save for the results you see here." Morrigan's eyes flicked down to Kallian's body before darting back to Wynne's face. "I arrived at this conclusion without any facts or evidence at hand. A touch hypocritical, I'll admit, but on the first day that I met Kallian, I watched her kill eight men in the most spectacularly efficient display of violence that I have ever seen. Afterwards, I looked into her eyes and saw something else looking back. I cannot truly explain it, but I knew with certainty that something foreign and anathematic had entered her body. 'Tis not a substantial argument, I know, but two subsequent events helped confirm my suspicion. The first was when we entered the Fade and I properly met Kallian's demon, and the second only began to develop thanks to you."

Wynne had felt her eyebrows creeping up throughout the declaration, but now they much have been approaching her hairline. "Me?"

"Yes. Not only are you walking proof that a person's mind can be linked to a denizen of the Fade, but also because you provided the evidence I needed to support a second theory."

Morrigan reached into a leather pouch that hung off the side of her belt. Drawing from it a neatly folded section of parchment, Morrigan held it out in offering. Wynne took it from her and unfolded it to reveal something familiar. It was one of the pages that Wynne had translated from the Old Ferelden book. A genealogy to be specific, but someone had taken to underlining a series of names. "Ignoring how you got a hold of this, I suspect you were tracing a bloodline? I tried doing the same thing in case her condition was genetic, but the problem is that the history ends several hundred years before the present day. In any case, I can't see how this would relate to a demon."

"'Twas the surnames I was interested in. The judicial records in Arl Eamon's study list four of these surnames in instances of 'elven rebellion' or 'inexplicable massacre'."

"And?"

The witch cocked a hip and leaned her weight against her staff. "You are supposedly an accomplished mage, so give it a moment's thought. Nearly ten generations of elves have all displayed similar symptoms. You suggest that it is a genetic illness, and I say that 'tis magic that is being passed from parent to child. I believe that Kallian's condition is the result of an ancient and enduring spell. Now, what brand of magic did we mages learn from demons?"

"Blood magic." Wynne chewed on the idea for a moment before nodding slowly in consideration. "A compelling idea, and it would explain why I never noticed foreign magic in her system. If Kallian was born under the influence of a spell, it would be a natural part of her. Still, it's something of a stretch. You are assuming that she was being controlled and that there is some type of rhyme or reason to her episodes. It is just as likely that she was simply experiencing violent seizures as a result of a genetic predisposition."

"Except she displayed a great deal of restraint for someone undergoing a mindless rampage. Her violence was contained and always convenient save for a few near misses." Morrigan ticked the reasons off her fingers as if making a mental list. "She woke from her coma spontaneously when it must have become clear that we would not have released her otherwise, and our lives were never placed at an undue amount of risk. My guess is because something realized that we were helping her along."

Wynne folded her arms and gave Morrigan a level look. "Or, more likely, that Kallian merely retained a degree of herself while under an episode."

"Now you are playing the skeptic?" Morrigan smirked back at her. "I feel you will find it harder to explain how Kallian's collar managed to remove itself not five minutes before she killed the Archdemon."

A prickle of unease ran down Wynne's spine. "I thought that you had removed it for your own purposes."

"I would have, but whatever it was that had a hold on Kallian did it for me. One can only assume that it was capable of removing the collar whenever it wished." A superior sort of smile tugged at her lips. "With that taken into account, it stands to reason that this aforementioned demon was preserving Kallian for the right moment. Now, for all of her admirable qualities, Kallian could only be involved in one thing of any importance. I believe the demon desired to take a measure of an Elder God's power for its own."

Wynne thought about what she had heard and had to admit that it was a more inclusive theory than any she had come up with. It was by no means definite, but if everything Morrigan said was accurate, than she could at least appreciate the witch's explanation. However, an intriguing story was not going to be helpful in the immediate future. What she needed right now was to understand what was going on inside of Kallian's body. "This is all well and good, but it does not explain why you transformed Kallian into a magical bomb, nor why you would be compelled to trick her into wearing a lodestone."

"The lodestone was never meant to be a conduit. 'Tis a switch. I made it so that energy could enter her body, but could not easily leave." Morrigan started circling around Kallian with a small smile on her face. Wynne was beginning to suspect that the witch enjoyed having an audience. "Incidentally, that is a large part of why Kallian's soul is not strewn across oblivion at this very moment. 'Tis also helping to contain the energy in her system."

Wynne suspected she was being baited into revisiting an earlier question. Resigning herself to Morrigan's drama, she played along. "A lodestone could not possibly contain a fraction of the energy that is currently in Kallian's body."

"No, not unless it consecrated in the blood of a powerful mage." Morrigan's yellow eyes left Wynne's face for a bare moment to follow a group of soldiers that had drifted closer to the Archdemon's corpse to gawk at the massive dragon. The men were not quite close enough to overhear their conversation, but if they kept coming, it would not be long before they were in earshot. Pitching her voice into a bare whisper, Morrigan spoke out of the corner of her mouth. "Especially when that mage had spent the last thousand years cheating death and subsiding on the lives of others."

Wynne glanced over at her sharply, but Morrigan was still watching the approaching soldiers. "Your mother? You used your mother in a blood magic ritual?"

"No need to sound so disgusted. Her blood was old, strong, and unwilling to let go of any power it touched. 'Twas an ideal catalyst for this reaction."

"Of course, how dare I be disgusted that you are using blood magic on your friends and family?"

"Your sarcasm is hardly impressive, and your distaste for the archaic arts seems absurd given the situation." Morrigan pointed first at the Archdemon and then back down at Kallian. "The Darkspawn curse is carried in the blood and 'tis blood that makes an ordinary man into a Warden. The older magics are more prevalent than most realize, and most of them are not even recognized under the purview of your precious Chantry. What I preformed was not so much blood magic as 'twas a ritual involving blood."

"A crucial distinction, I'm sure." Wynne snapped out the response and regretted it when she saw Morrigan's eyes narrow. It would be counterproductive if Morrigan suddenly decided to stop being forthcoming. Suppressing her distaste, she managed to continue in a much more civilized tone. "It does not matter in case. What I don't understand is why you did this at all."

Morrigan cocked a brow. "Saving Kallian's life is not enough of a reason? The amulet kept the demon in her body and made it the target of the Archdemon's soul. Thanks to me, we won a victory without losing her in the process."

"And the energy? Why is it trapped here? It could be argued that you have made the Archdemon even _more _of a threat by containing it in such a manner."

The witch barked out a laugh. "Let me pose a query: how much energy do you think is released when two old and powerful souls consume one another?"

"I don't know. An immeasurably high amount, I would suspect." Wynne initially frowned at the question, but then started as she realized the implication. Shock flared along the ridge of her spine and Wynne could swear that she felt her heartbeat slow. She could hardly believe that she could have overlooked something so glaringly out of place. Words fell from her lips like a procession of heavy stones. "And countless times more than it would take to utterly annihilate Kallian's body. If your necklace stopped it from draining into the Fade, why didn't her flesh burn away? Even a mage's physiology couldn't withstand that amount of power."

"The path of least resistance." Morrigan hummed the words with a palpable sense of self-satisfaction. "Energy on that scale would tear her to pieces or even break through my mean, little amulet, but 'twas far easier for it to flow along inviting channels. After all, the connections were all in place."

"Connections?" Wynne repeated the word as a scarce whisper.

"The Archdemon's blood ran in Kallian's veins. Grey Wardens are unique in that similarity." Morrigan smiled slightly and let her gaze drift over to the nearby soldiers. They had stopped by the Archdemon's head, and Wynne could make out their indistinct mutters as the discussed the monster before them. "And Kallian was born with the other connection. When demon and Archdemon died, the totality of their essences needed to go somewhere, and like recognizes like."

Wynne bowed her head, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. Morrigan had not simply trapped the Archdemon's power in Kallian's body, she had made it so that it wove itself into the elf's soul. It was an unspeakable violation, a tampering with the bare essence that made Kallian who she was. That energy was circulating in her body because it was trying to adapt. It was trying to become a part of her on the most basic level. Revulsion and amazement warred within her, and revulsion triumphed handily. "How could you…? No, how dare you do something like that?"

"What? Save her life? Give her another chance to speak with her lover? What trespass have I committed?" Morrigan hissed the words like a riled serpent. Her good humor had vanished in an instant. "I did what you could not. I freed her from her 'curse', and gave her a life that would have otherwise been denied. You have no right to look down at me because my methods are unpalatable."

Wynne held her ground. "Unpalatable? It's downright evil. You should never have done this without her knowledge! Maker only knows what effect it will have."

"Please, 'tis not as though she will grow wings and spit fire." Morrigan bit the words out derisively. "You said it yourself, she is no mage who might recognize the power for what it is. More than like, she will go the rest of her days never knowing what she has inside of her."

"It doesn't matter! What you did was wrong!" Wynne sliced the air in front of her with the palm of her hand. "And that energy is hardly bound! I barely touched it and it nearly broke free!"

"Because 'tis not yet bound. 'Tis only anchoring her spirit to her body." Morrigan's composure returned just as swiftly as it had vanished. Stretching out her arms in a carefully nonchalant manner, she gave Wynne a significant look. "She must be brought back so that it can meld with her soul. Then everything will be perfectly safe."

A scornful, slightly hysterical twitter of laughter burst from Wynne's throat. "Oh, that easy, is it? And I suppose you have a way for us to enter the Fade? More blood magic perhaps?"

"No, I do not possess the means to draw power enough for that." The witch smiled a slow and entirely unfriendly smile. "But you do."

This time, Wynne caught the other woman's meaning almost immediately. If it were any other person in the world, Wynne might have sputtered at their audacity. As it was, she simply pursed her lips against the protest that instinctively rose up in her throat. Keeping her face as composed as she was able, she tilted her head in what she hoped was a neutral gesture. "You are referring to the spirit."

"Yes, your spirit. More than enough power there to do what must be done."

Wynne tensed. "You know what that will cost?"

"One life to save the many? It seems a small price." Morrigan jerked a nod in Kallian's direction. "One that she was willing to pay."

"You can stop with the manipulation. It loses some effect when you are volunteering someone else to die." Wynne glared at her sourly. She was beginning to seriously wonder how long Morrigan had planned all of this. "You've really gambled with a great deal. Suppose I decide to act like you and look after my own interests? What will you do then?"

"You won't." Morrigan looked unruffled by the suggestion. "We both know it."

Wynne acknowledged that with a hard smile. It would be so satisfying to thwart Morrigan out of spite, but it would not be worth it. This was something that Wynne would have to do, not because it was the right thing, but because it was the only option that she could ever live with. Besides, it was not as though she were unprepared for this moment. It was past due and a part of the natural course of a human life. Still, some small part of her felt fear. That much was instinctual, but Wynne was not governed by her instincts. "No, I suppose I won't."

To her credit, Morrigan did not gloat in victory. She simply watched Wynne for a moment before nodding. "Then you will help her?"

"I would have happily taken her place if I had known it was an option." Wynne paused and considered what she might do. Even if she rescued Kallian, it would not guarantee the elf's safety. She might understand that this was for the best, but the rest of the world would not see it in the same way. "No one can ever know about this, Morrigan. The Chantry would kill both of you if they ever learned what has transpired here. Blood magic aside, she's about to become something that the world has never seen before. The Templars would line up to cut her throat without even sparing a thought for Grey Warden neutrality."

"Agreed. 'Tis dangerous knowledge. I only shared it with you in the off chance that it pertained to her healing." Morrigan's brittle smile softened into a more pleasant expression. "There is a certain irony here, isn't there? A common street thief is about to acquire the power of a god. Not that she will ever know it, but the point remains."

Wynne nodded distractedly, her thoughts were on more important things than Morrigan's amusement. It was strange to think that this was how things would end. She wondered if this was what she was meant to do. Until the spirit had brought her back to life, she had always been willing to dismiss coincidence as exactly that. Still, after meeting the Wardens and discovering something uncomfortably close to destiny, she had started to wonder if all of these fantastic occurrences might be connected.

_Wait. What was it that Morrigan had said about connections?_

A horrible, creeping suspicion gathered at the back of Wynne's mind like a storm cloud. Glancing first at Kallian, she then swept her gaze upwards until she was staring back at Morrigan. "You said you thought the blood magic used on the elves was genetic?"

"Hmm?" Morrigan blinked a few times as if surprised by the question. "Yes, I am entirely certain."

"If that's true, then the spell was born with her." Wynne spoke casually, letting none of her thoughts enter her voice. "It's a fundamental and irrevocable part of her genetic make-up. That's what you believe, am I right?"

Morrigan frowned at her. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"It occurs to me that magic of that sort would not disappear even after the death of its caster. It's as much a part of Kallian as her arms or her legs. The vulnerability will remain. With the demon gone, her mind is essentially a castle with the gates flung upon. Anything or anyone with a measure of power could enthrall her without even making an effort."

"And?"

"And," Wynne subtly shifted so that her staff was at the ready. "I fear there are certain people who might take advantage that. Especially considering the power that is now at her disposal."

Morrigan went very still. "Ah."

"You wanted the power the Archdemon had." Wynne kept her eyes on Morrigan's face, looking for anything that might betray the witch's state of mind. "You tried to contain it in a child, and when that didn't work out, I think you found another way to get what you wanted. So long as you are the one with a grip on Kallian's mind, you effectively control the Archdemon's power as well."

The witch scoffed, but the scorn was not convincing. "You believe I would enslave her?"

"I think you would do whatever it takes to satisfy your own ambitions. I believe you only look toward the end result without ever sparing a thought for the means."

Morrigan's eyes went hard. Wynne tensed up and wondered if she should draw upon her magic. It would make her feel better to have a weapon at hand, but Morrigan would sense it and things would escalate very rapidly. There was no question that Wynne was less accomplished in battle magic than Morrigan, but she still knew more than enough to hold her own if it came to it.

Before she could decide one way or the other, Morrigan held up a pacifying hand. "Very well, I won't deny it. I plan to step in and fill the space that the demon left."

Wynne was surprised only by the readiness of the admission, not its contents. She gathered magic, mentally running through the few Primal spells she knew. "That is too far, Morrigan. The rest of this I could almost accept, but this is too far."

"What else would you have me do? Leave her mind unguarded for the next passing demon to stumble upon? Someone has to fill that void just to prevent everything else from doing so." Morrigan spoke the words with an uncharacteristic weariness. The self-satisfaction had completely fled from her. Her tone was bitter, as if saying these words pained her."If I did not do this, Kallian would forevermore be at risk to exploitation. I will not allow that. Were I in her place, I would choose a friend over some unknown denizen of the Fade."

"Very noble of you." Wynne commented dryly. "I am sure Kallian will be relieved that she is being enslaved by a familiar face."

Morrigan straightened her shoulders, yellow eyes flashing with anger. "I shall never take advantage of it! I mean only to protect her, not to strip away her will. She is quite possibly the only friend I have ever had. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"It does. I just don't know if it means anything to you."

The witch's mouth thinned into a severe, pale line, but she did not protest further. Instead, she gave a shake of her head and continued in a calm voice. "There is no way to close the doorway into her mind. The most I can do is guard the entrance. It does not matter if you approve. What is important is that you heal Kallian."

Wynne tilted her head to the side. "You still believe that I will? I am beginning to think that it would be better to risk the explosion than anything you might have planned."

"A heavy price to pay simply because you do not trust me."

That was true. Wynne had known her words were hollow as she had spoken them. Still, she could not simply let Morrigan get away with something like this. "Perhaps, but I promise you that this won't stand. I'll let Alistair decide what to do about this when he returns."

Morrigan looked around as if trying to find Alistair amidst the distant crowd. "He must not know. None of them can."

"That isn't for you to decide."

"'Tis a risk for Kallian, a risk for me, and an even greater risk that one of them will do something profoundly stupid out of anger. Kallian must be healed, and I do not intend to be killed or made captive in the process." Morrigan tapped a finger against her staff. Her voice had become as hard and brittle as bad steel. "I swear by oak and blood, if you tell anyone else, I will not be made responsible for whatever transpires afterwards."

It was amazing that Morrigan could find the courage to make a threat in such a delicate situation. There was very little that Wynne had to fear at this point, but even so, she was unwilling to test Morrigan's restraint overly much. However well-planned this may have been, it also held an element of desperation that Wynne had not missed. Morrigan dearly wanted this to work out in her favor, and that would make her unpredictable in a tight situation. Besides, Wynne had an idea on how to handle this without risking anyone's life.

She studied Morrigan for a moment. "Do you know what truly saddens me?

"I doubt anything will prevent you from sharing."

"What makes me truly sad is that you could have been happy. All you had to do was make a few human decisions, and you would have likely found real joy." Wynne watched to see if her words had any effect, but Morrigan gave no indication of her mood. "Alistair is a good man, and you could have made a good life with him. But this? This will bring you nothing but misery."

"We shall see. Or, at least, I will."

"Yes, and by the time you do, it is going to be far too late." Wynne waved a dismissive hand and turned so that her back was to the other woman. "Have no fear, Morrigan. I'll do what you want me to. Just go away. Go away so I don't have to look at you."

Morrigan did not leave, but then, Wynne had not really expected her to. Together, they waited for the others to arrive. It was not a long wait. Only a few minutes passed before Alistair hurried over, four slender lyrium vials cupped in one hand. Leliana followed a shortly thereafter with bandages, poultices, and even embrium sap. That surprised Wynne somewhat, as she had not actually known if there was any down in the tower. Still, as the bard run up to them red-faced and breathing hard, Wynne smiled warmly as though the simple remedies would make much of a difference.

Under her direction, they laid out the various supplies near where Kallian lay. The commotion did not go unnoticed by the nearby soldiers, and by the time Wynne was ready to begin, a small half-circle of onlookers had formed around them. Ignoring the audience with effort, Wynne quickly explained everyone's role. "We are going to need to move very quickly once we begin. Alistair, you are to start bandaging the wounds on Kallian's leg. I can't tell if her heart will start pumping immediately, but she cannot lose any more blood than she already has. Tristan is going to need to replenish her supply as it is."

He nodded. "I've got it."

"Good. Leliana, I need you to make Kallian drink that lyrium. It's going to be a buffer against all the healing magic we are going to need to fix her." Wynne decided not to mention that as of right now, Kallian's system was probably immune to any amount of magical energy. It was better not to take the risk in any case. "She will not be conscious, so you may just have to tip it down her throat."

"Alright." Leliana accepted the vials when Alistair held them out to her. "But what about entering the Fade?"

"I'll be taking care of that." Wynne motioned for Tristan and his assistant to come closer. "I plan to invoke the spirit into my body and use that power to cross over."

Alistair raised his head to stare at her. "Is that safe?"

"In no way."

"But—"

"Alistair, I deeply appreciate the concern, but we have very little time to waste." Wynne cut him off before he could protest any further. "Suffice to say, this is worth the risk. Morrigan, it would be faster if you lowered your stasis rather than have me try to do it."

Morrigan stepped forward and hesitated before lifting a hand over Kallian's body. She glanced over at Wynne for a brief moment, but her expression was guarded and undecipherable. Then, she started muttering the incantation that would lower the field. As soon as she did, Tristan and the other mage both bowed their heads as they concentrated on summoning their own magic. Wynne was about to follow suit when Alistair suddenly reached over and caught her by the elbow. "Wynne, when you were overtaken by that spirit back on the road, you made it sound like the next time would be—"

"I will be fine, Alistair." Wynne responded quietly. She did not need him voicing that particular concern out loud. It would only serve to make this more difficult than it already was. Lifting a hand, she let it rest atop his. "You're going to be a wonderful king. Don't let Kallian feel guilty about this."

His eyes widened noticeably at her words. A protest visibly died on his lips. Shaking his head just a little, he squeezed her hand once before pulling away. "I won't. Thank you, Wynne. For everything."

Wynne smiled. There were not nearly enough good men in positions of power. It would have been nice to see Alistair grow into the role that fate had delivered him. She only hoped that he would maintain the confidence that he had displayed in recent weeks.

A second later, the stasis field surrounding Kallian's body winked out of existence without a faint hiss of escaping air. Tristan and the other magic immediately moved in with healing magic already gathered about their hands. Wynne noted with concern that Kallian was not breathing. If they did not get her lungs working soon, oxygen deprivation would make saving Kallian impossible.

And, by the same token, condemn the better part of the city to death.

Wynne knelt down and caught hold of one of Kallian's hand. The elf's skin was cold and tacky with her own blood. Wynne shut her eyes as she mentally called out to her benefactor. There was no great trick to invoking the spirit. Each time, she had simply asked and it had come to her aid.

_Please. I have no right to ask more of you, and yet I must. Please, help me do this one last thing._

The spirit responded instantly and without condition. Barely an instant had passed before Wynne could feel its power seep into her body like the warmth of a strong drink. Her exhaustion vanished to be replaced by a lightness of both body and spirit. It was like waking up well-rested after a long night of sleep. The giddying rush was powerful, and Wynne allowed herself a few seconds to simply delight in the euphoria.

Then, she remembered herself and her task. Even with this much power at her disposal, crossing over into the Fade was tricky business. Projecting one's soul into a different plane of existence required intense concentration. Many mages had difficulty envisioning the act of simultaneously existing in two separate realms at one time. In order to cross over properly, one needed to sincerely believe that they were getting up and leaving their body behind. It was the mental equivalent of trying to walk from one room to another without ever stepping over the threshold. Some people found the entire process to be impossible.

However, Wynne had done this many times, and passing into the Fade had grown easier thanks to long familiarity. She might have been tempted to linger for a moment longer, to say her good-byes and prepare herself for an overdue rest, but with the stasis field gone, every second could be precious. She closed her eyes, gathered the spirit's power about her like a shawl, and then hurled herself across an indefinite expanse of space and time.

…

xxXxx

…

When her eyes opened, she was forced to raise a hand to shield them from her suddenly bright surroundings. Squinting hard against the glare, she gave herself a moment to adjust to the light before cautiously lowering her hand.

She stood next to a river. Thick grass of a deep, rich green spread out like a carpet beneath her shoes before tampering off at the gently-sloped bank that ran along the water's edge. The river itself was a wide, murmuring trail of emerald water that flowed along at a steady pace. Tall oak trees were spread out around the area, their bowed branches clothed by bunches of broad, multi-pointed leaves.

The warm sunlight above filtered through this dense canopy in narrow columns that dappled the ground like a leopard's spots. On top of the trickling song of the river, Wynne could hear cheerful birdcalls being exchanged by unseen suitors. A damp, earthy smell of moss filled the air, as well as the cleaner scents of running water and sun-kissed soil.

Wynne smiled as she gazed around the appealing setting. It was not real, of course, nothing in the Fade technically was. It was a place of dreams and hallucinations, and this riverside paradise was nothing more than a wish made manifest. Someone had imagined this place, and so it had come to be within the mercurial landscape of the dreaming realm.

Still, it was a very pleasant wish.

She was so taken by the place's beauty that she almost overlooked the fact that someone was humming. It was a faint sound, barely audible in fact, but when she turned her head to look over to the right, she beheld something that made her smile grow even wider.

Kallian was lying flat on her back by the edge of the river. She wore a simple tunic the color of pale wine, and doe-skin breeches that ended midway up her shins. Her right leg was bent at the knee, and her left was draped over it in the perfect picture of relaxation. Kallian was barefoot, and both of her hands were resting beneath her head as she hummed tuneless to herself. She appeared to be entirely unaware of Wynne's presence.

It was strange to see the ordinarily guarded woman looking so at peace. Wynne watched her for a few long moments and felt some of her anxiety subside. That business with Morrigan had made her feel very poorly about this endeavor, but seeing Kallian in such a manner helped in ways that Wynne could not begin to describe. It was a reminder of why this sacrifice was worthwhile. Clearing her throat softly, she called out in a hushed tone as though speaking too loud would break the serene atmosphere. "Kallian?"

The elf stopped humming and pushed herself into a seated position. It was not the motion of someone who had been startled, but rather the smooth movement of a woman completely at ease. As she twisted around to look back at Wynne, her unbound black hair spilled down past her shoulders in thick tangles. As soon as their eyes met, Kallian let out a delighted whoop. "Wynne!"

She sprang up from the ground with the all the enthusiasm of a small child. Her face broke out in a beaming, toothy grin as she raced over to gather Wynne in a fierce hug. Surprised by the overt display of affection, Wynne sputtered breathlessly as the elf squeezed her ribs tightly. "Alright, alright, no need to knock me over."

"I'm so glad you are here!" Kallian pulled back from the hug and clapped Wynne firmly on both shoulders. A thought seemed to occur to her then, and she winced as though stung. "Oooh…but that means you're dead too, huh?"

"Not quite yet." Wynne shook her head with a smile. "Incidentally, neither are you."

Kallian laughed easily. "Gonna have to disagree with you there. I'm dead as all get out. I went through that whole out-of-body type deal. You know, falling through darkness, light at the end of tunnel, choir of heavenly voices…" Kallian waved one hand in the air and then abruptly snapped her fingers. "Oh! And my life flashed before my eyes. That was a hell of a thing."

Wynne blinked. "So, that really happens?"

"Yeah, and let me tell you, it's a crazy experience." The elf cast a thoughtful look up at the sky above. "I learned a whole lot about myself."

"Such as?"

"For one thing, I swear entirely too much." Kallian chuckled and shrugged carelessly. "You don't really notice it until you hear it all at once."

"Indeed." Wynne indicated their surroundings. "And then you ended up here?"

"Yeah, I've been here for…" Kallian trialed off in midsentence and scrunched up her brow as if trying to remember something. "Huh…I don't really know how long I've been here. I wanna say a few days, but then again…" Her eyes widened with a sudden terror. "…I think it might have been forever. Oh hell! What if it was forever?"

Wynne shook her head quickly. "Not forever."

"Oh, that's good." Kallian sagged in obvious relief and lifted a hand to touch the side of her head. "Forever would have been way too long."

A slight frown made its way to Wynne's lips. Kallian's behavior might have been amusing if Wynne had not known the cause. Spending time in the Fade often resulted in a person losing touch with reality. She might still be responsive and self-aware, but Kallian was slipping away into fantasy. This conversation would prove more difficult than Wynne had imagined. "Kallian, I need you to listen carefully to what I am about to say."

"Alright," Kallian straightened up to attention. "Shoot."

"You are not dead." Wynne enunciated the words carefully to eliminate any possible confusion. "At some point before killing the Archdemon, you suffered one of your episodes. Right now, your body is lying on top of Fort Drakon. You are badly injured, but you are not dead."

Kallian did not seem overly convinced. "If I'm not dead, how come I'm here?"

"Your spirit was forcibly detached from your body."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound much better than being dead."

"And yet, it is." Wynne concealed her irritation at Kallian's lighthearted tone. It was not her fault that she did not recognize the severity of the situation. "It's better because we can bring you back."

"Back?" Kallian cocked her head to the side with innocent curiosity. "Back where?"

"To life."

"To life?" The elf repeated the words as if hearing them for the same time. She mulled them over for a moment before shooting Wynne a quick grin. "What is that? Life, I mean."

"Life?" Wynne was confused by the question. How does one explain life? "Well, it's not really a concept one has to describe very often. I guess you could say that it the span of time stretching between birth and death. You might know it the totality of your emotional and sensory experience?"

Kallian gazed back at her, wide-eyed and full of incomprehension. "Not ringing a bell."

"You lived a life? We knew each other during that time?" Wynne asked each question in the hopes that it would trigger something in Kallian's mind. "You have nineteen years of experience on the subject?"

"Sorry."

Wynne groaned in exasperation. "Kallian, a minute ago, you told me that you had relived it!"

"Oh! That's what you are talking about? I completely know what that is; why didn't you just say so?" Kallian visibly brightened as though a great mystery had been solved. "Yeah, I don't really wanna go back to that, thanks though."

A muscle in Wynne's eyelid twitched. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's really nice of you to offer, and I hope you didn't go to too much trouble on my account, but I think I'm fine with staying here."

Wynne could only stare back at her like an idiot. A smoldering current of anger was building at the back of her mind. Considering what this meant for Denerim, to say nothing of what it meant for Wynne personally, the idea that Kallian did not _want _to go back was nothing short of infuriating. Her anger peaked all at once, and Wynne found herself glaring down at the shorter women with a sharp comment dancing at the tip of her tongue.

For her part, Kallian seemed entirely unaware of Wynne's displeasure. In the handful of seconds that had passed since either of them had spoken, Kallian seemed to have become entranced by a shaft of sunlight that shown down through the tree branches. She kept passing her hand through it, smiling as it played along the skin of her hand.

After a moment of this, Kallian flashed another broad smile up at Wynne. "C'mon, take a seat by water. It's really nice there."

With that, she turned and started to walk a meandering course back down to the river's edge. Sinking down on the sandy bank, she resumed her uneven humming.

Wynne stared after her and breathed out a sigh. This wasn't Kallian being her usual, obstinate self; it was something far more problematic. Her friend was suffering from delusions of the most complex sort.

The Fade was a curiously jealous realm that hated to let go of those who entered. It could be as much a place of nightmares as of dreams, but it most often manifested an individual's desires above all else. But, make no mistake, these pleasant illusions were far more insidious than their darker counterparts. A sleeper might try to escape their terrors, but why would anyone fight against something they want?

Taking her staff in hand, Wynne followed after Kallian to sit beside her at the riverside. The most she could do was try to remind Kallian of the living world. "Why do you want to stay here? It seems a little quiet for your tastes."

"Maybe, but it's nice too." Kallian drew her knees up to her chest and rested her arms atop of them. Lifting a hand, she began to idly twirl the long strands of black hair that hung about her face. "Don't you agree?"

"I do, but that doesn't mean we can stay. You don't belong here, Kallian."

"Why not?"

"Because this is the Fade, and it is a place for dreamers and the dead." Wynne made an encompassing gesture around them. "You are still alive, Kallian. You still have a life to live before you are ready for this."

"Life wasn't all that great." Kallian murmured quietly. A few lines now creased her brow, and the beginnings of a frown tugged at her lips. Wynne couldn't help but think that the expression was a more familiar one on Kallian's features. "I told you I relived it all, and most of it was bad. It isn't like that around here."

"Kallian," Wynne spoke gently to avoid causing distress. "This isn't real. There is no 'here'."

"Sure there is. We are here, so there has to be a here."

Wynne reached down between them and plucked a smooth, flat stone from the sandy earth. Holding it out in offering, she smiled over at Kallian. "Have you ever skipped a stone?"

Kallian perked up. "No, never. Can you teach me?"

"How about this," Wynne dropped the stone in Kallian's hand and pointed out over the water. "Just imagine that stone will skip a few dozen times and throw it as hard as you can."

"Uhh...alright."

"Make sure you really think hard about it skipping."

Kallian gave her a dubious look before seeming to shrug. Adopting a look of almost comical concentration, she wound back and flung the rock side-arm.

It leapt from her hand like it had been loosed from a sling and bounded merrily over the water in a series of perfectly circular splashes. It kept going long after what should have been possible, and just as it was nearing the far bank of the river, the stone's trajectory abruptly shifted so that it curved away from the shore. Finally, after at least twenty skips, the stone took one last jump before sliding gracefully beneath the teal surface of the water.

Kallian lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the sun as she stared over at where the stone had disappeared. "Huh..."

"There is no 'here', Kallian. What you see around you is what you want to see around you." Wynne shifted to a more comfortable position and kept speaking. "Had you wanted that stone to turn into a bird and fly off, it would have done exactly that. This is the Fade, and we are in what amounts to a dream."

Kallian dropped her hand back to her side. "So?"

"So, it's important that you recognize that. There's nothing substantial about this. It is just your subconscious putting on a show."

"It might not be substantial, but there's no pain here. No fear or troubles either. I don't have to worry about starving or...well, people." Kallian's voice had lost its dreamy, innocent quality. She was still outwardly calm, but Wynne thought she could see a hint of agitation in her eyes. "Why would anyone want to go back to all that?"

"I won't deny that life is hard. That's part of what makes it life. But, in spite of that, there are countless things that make it worthwhile."

"Like what?" Kallian did not ask it as a challenge, but rather like she was genuinely curious about the response.

"Like having a quiet night by the fire, or spending several hours with a lover. Maybe it's as simple as hearing a favorite tune sung well, or else enjoying a damn fine bottle of wine." Wynne smiled to herself, a sad jolt of loss turning her own words into something bittersweet. "Kallian, I won't pretend to know half of what I would like to, but if there is one thing that I believe with utter certainty, it's that life is something very, very special. I have never lived a single day that I would rather have not."

Kallian was quiet for a long time. She picked at a few blades of grass with a troubled look on her face. When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft that Wynne almost missed what she was saying. "We won, right?"

"Sorry?"

"The Blight. We stopped the Archdemon, didn't we?"

Wynne nodded. "Yes, you did."

"That's a good end." Kallian glanced up at Wynne through her eyelashes. She sounded almost sheepish. "I mean, that's enough, isn't it? Why not just let it end there? I don't mind staying where I am, and maybe this is for the best."

Wynne inwardly frowned. It was time to stop being gentle and to remind Kallian of what she was giving up. "And what about Leliana?"

"Leliana?" Kallian reared back slightly as if surprised to hear the name out loud. Her brows drew together in a worried line, and the elf's tone became hesitant. "Well…she'll be here eventually, right? I just have to wait."

"Maybe, if that is indeed how it works. No one can really speak for what happens after death. Even ghosts are merely shadows of their former selves." Wynne spoke lightly, as if discussing something of little importance. "It's possible the two of you might never meet in this place. Who is to say for certain?"

Kallian squirmed about in discomfort. "Is she okay?"

"She was devastated when you fell. She hid it well, but there was a terrible pain in her eyes." Wynne said. "Still, you should have seen her when I said there was a chance you would survive. She's holding onto that hope even as we speak."

For the first time since she arrived here, Wynne saw a genuinely painful emotion pass over Kallian's face. Looking like she had been struck in the gut, the elf gave Wynne a hurt look. "But…we agreed this was for the best. She said she understood—"

"Kallian," Wynne interjected firmly. "If your positions were reversed, how do you think it would feel if Leliana decided that she didn't want to come back to you?"

She did not say anything else, but then, she did not need to. Her words had struck home. Kallian remained silent beside her, but a sharp tension had filled the air like the silence following a social gaffe.

Wynne kept her eyes fixed on the river before her, studiously avoiding looking over at her friend. A breeze had picked up around them, and she could feel magical energy shifting about as a profound change was being enacted in their surroundings. A soft noise like the fluttering of tiny wings was coming from where Kallian sat, but Wynne kept her eyes averted. Awakening from a Fade-induced dream could be a delicate experience, and Wynne wanted to give her as much privacy as she was able.

After close to two minutes of near quiet, a soft exhalation of breath sounded from beside her. "Phhhhh…fuck."

Wynne smiled and turned to look at Kallian. "Good to have you back."

The elf had changed completely. Her hair was now back to its normal length, and her light clothing had shifted back into the heavy furs and metal armor that she had been wearing in the real world. A splattering of ash and Darkspawn blood covered her exposed skin, but she bore none of the horrifying injuries from her fight with the Archdemon. Her facial features had grown considerably leaner and slightly hollow from stress. The effect seemed to add five years to her actual age, and her voice has descended back into the hard, raspy tone that Wynne knew well. "Gimme a minute. My head is absolutely killing me."

"Your brain is trying to block out your memories of this place." Wynne noted agreeably. "Be thankful that it is. There's no telling how long you've been here, and it would drive you insane if you consciously remembered an infinite span of time."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Good, I find it simpler when people do." Wynne said, smiling. "Now, if you're through sitting around, it's best to get a move on." She stood up from the ground and brushed some dust off of her robes. Already, their surroundings were beginning to blur and fade as Kallian's dream began to end. "We need to get you back to the waking world, after all."

Kallian groaned and hoisted herself up to her feet with effort. "You can actually do that?"

"Yes. Unless, of course, you still insist on staying here."

"Nah, I'm okay." She smiled weakly at Wynne and gingerly touched her temple with one hand. "You know how it is: you spend one endless eternity by a river, you've spent them all."

"I'm sure."

Kallian released a breathy chuckle. "So, how do we do this?"

"Not we," Wynne shook her head slowly. "You."

"Eh?"

"It took a lot of energy to enter the Fade, Kallian. I called upon the spirit, but that took most of what I had left. I won't be going back with you."

Kallian looked stricken. "Oh hell, Wynne, I didn't want that. No, you just go back without me."

"Hush. I'm an old woman living on borrowed time." Wynne smiled at her in spite of the fact that she did not feel like doing so. "You're young and the Hero of Ferelden. There's really no question about who should be walking away from this."

"But—"

"Kallian, if you 'but' me, I swear I will slap you." Wynne frowned down at Kallian using the same expression she had used to curtail troublesome students. "I've made up my mind and it's too late to change it anyway. Just thank me and stop being so contrary."

The elf blinked at her, obviously taken aback. "Uhh…thank you?"

"You're welcome."

"Okay." Kallian shifted on her feet. Drawing in a breath, she met Wynne's eyes. "Seriously though, thank you. I can't ever repay something like this."

"Yes, you can." Wynne stepped forward and placed her hands on the shorter woman's shoulders in an affectionate manner. She let her expression soften now that it was clear that there would be no argument. "Just live your life and find something that makes you happy. I'll consider that a fair trade."

Kallian returned the smile tentatively. "Is it going to hurt? Going back, I mean."

"No, but it's going to hurt like hell once you get there. You've got a long recovery in store for you."

"Well, I guess that's to be expected." A thought seemed to occur to her then. "Any point in me asking how this is possible? I thought I was dead no matter what."

Wynne paused, wondering how much she should tell. "It's a long explanation that we don't really have time for. The short version is that your demon took hold, and the Archdemon's soul destroyed it instead of you."

"My demon?"

"The thing that was controlling you."

Kallian frowned. "So, it really was a demon? No shit."

"Yes, but that's all part of the longer version." Wynne squeezed Kallian's shoulders once. "We should get you going."

The elf shook her head. "Just one moment. I want you to know that I won't ever forget this. Most people wouldn't have even thought about doing half of what you've done for me. Heh, I still don't know why you did any of it."

"Honestly, Kallian, I thought you just needed some proof that the world isn't as dark a place as you imagined." Wynne was mildly embarrassed by the gratitude. She had never really known how to accept thanks for doing what seemed to be the only acceptable course of action. "And, on a more personal note, if I were to have a daughter, I suspect she'd be…" Wynne trailed off and reconsidered her words. "Actually, I doubt she would be very much like you at all."

Kallian snorted out a laugh. "Ouch."

"Still, if she were," Wynne continued with a small smile. "I'd be very proud."

The elf gave her an astonished look before breaking out in a wide grin. Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around Wynne and squeezed tightly. This time, Wynne returned it without minding that minor discomfort. She would miss Kallian, if indeed she were capable of missing anything once this was over.

After a few long seconds, she gently pushed Kallian back. "It's time. Before you go, there is one last thing I need to do."

Kallian brushed at her eyes with one hand before ducking her head in a quick nod. "Okay, go ahead."

"I do apologize for this." Wynne murmured softly even as she brought her hand up to cup the side of Kallian's face. Her magic flared out strong, and the sleep spell took hold within less than a second. Kallian's legs folded out from under her, and she would have collapsed entirely if Wynne had not been there to lower her to the ground. Even so, the weight of Kallian's armor nearly sent them both sprawling.

Wynne worked quickly. Moving to kneel beside Kallian's head, she took her own thumb into her mouth and bit it sharply until coppery blood coated her tongue. She might not have a physical body in the Fade, but this was her essence all the same.

She lowered the bleeding digit down to Kallian's forehead and in one smooth motion, sketched an abstract symbol that resembled an crescent moon bisected two thin lines. It was the magic rune for _Ahlm_, the command of power, control, and binding. Wynne studied it to make sure that she had drawn it perfectly before settling back onto her haunches.

She had never practiced blood magic before, but she knew the theory. Her magic would forge a connection between the blood on Kallian's forehead, and the blood in Wynne's mouth. It would make her words into commands that could never be denied. Summoning what remained of her strength, she murmured a binding that would have earned her a swift beheading were she still in the Circle. "_E'rhilk Vin Arhlak._"

The _Ahlm_ on Kallian's head glowed orange for a brief instant before subsiding. Morrigan had not lied. There was a vulnerability in Kallian's mind that made it easy for her to gain entrance. She barely felt any resistance at all as her magic told hold. The only thing Wynne felt was a curious tugging at her brain like an invisible hook had sunk in and was weakly pulling her toward Kallian. It was profoundly disconcerting, but it meant the connection had been successful.

"_**Kallian, you will listen to me.**_" Her voice came out her mouth with a tinny echo like a second person was repeating Wynne's words a bare instant after she spoke them. "_**You will listen, and you will obey.**_"

A high, harsh sound stirred from the depths of Kallian's throat, her eyes darting about beneath their lids. The sound was panicked, terrified like the whine of a snared animal. She was not truly sleeping, Wynne could hardly put a dreamer to sleep, but rather Kallian was simply thinking of nothing at all. A blankness, a total absence of any experience be it thought or sensation. By all right, she should have been incapable of responding, of feeling.

Yet, what Wynne was doing had proved horrifying enough to make a basic part of Kallian feel something in the absence of anything.

Wynne's throat went very dry, and the salty taste of her own blood became thick and gummy against her tongue. She felt tears burn at the edges of her eyes, doubt crushing in like the first peal of thunder. How could she could actually think of doing this? She was bypassing Kallian's will and binding her with her own. In was a trespass of unequaled severity. Wynne had spent her entire life hating those mages who chose this. Blood magic of this sort was the reason she accepted the often harsh presence of the Chantry.

She shouldn't be doing this.

But, her voice was coming from her mouth, and it was coming low and firm. "_**Kallian, the next time you see Morrigan, you will pretend that all is well. You will act like her friend, but you will not trust her. You will not listen to her words, and you will accept nothing she offers.**_"

Wynne hesitated for the span of a single breath. It was a moment; a moment in which she compromised. For that little instant, Wynne accepted her share of evil. "_**And when you are alone with her and she is distracted, you will kill her.**_"

There, it was done. Wynne opened her eyes and numbly recited the words to close the binding she had placed. The _Alhm _flared up on her forehead, but this time, the wet blood either dried or else swiftly burned into a fine ash. Wetting the hem of her sleeve in the river, she used the cloth to gently wash Kallian's face clean of it.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, her voice thin yet terribly audible. Kallian's face was calm, expressionless in her private void. "The things she could do. I can't allow it to happen..."

Wynne told herself that it wasn't so bad. Kallian's current state left her no way to form memory. She would never remember. Whatever horrors her consciousness had felt were lost as soon as they subsided. She would not remember.

Or, at least, Wynne prayed that she would not. Wynne prayed with every fiber of her being that Kallian would never remember what she had done to her.

It took the last bit of life that Wynne had left to send Kallian back. She gathered what remained of the spirit's power and visualized hard on Fort Drakon, the broken body lying in blood and surrounded by her friends' faces. Her fingers loosened of their own accord, and Kallian's body slipped from her grasp with a tug.

Kallian floated down the river at rate far faster than the current was moving. Her course was perfectly straight, and she looked almost peaceful as she bobbed gently along. Wynne watched for the handful of seconds it took the river to bear Kallian around a bend and away from sight. She stayed watching for a while longer, feeling as empty and old as she had ever felt.

If she was lying to herself, she would have said that she did it out of kindness; that she was sparing Kallian the pain and uncertainty of the truth. It was not easy knowledge to have. Kallian did not deserve to know that her mind had never once been her own. She shouldn't have to live with the reminder that the essential composition of who she was had been altered. She did not need to know that her friend had committed an inhuman betrayal.

_Two friends..._

That was the lie. The truth was that she didn't think Kallian would ever do it.

Kallian did not trust easily, but she trusted too much. It would be enough to make her question and reflect on the matter for too long. It might even be enough to make her have a long moment of self-doubt when really, she should be acting. Wynne was able to make that choice, but Kallian was young and a bit too blind in her loyalty.

Besides, all of that was assuming Wynne could even convince Kallian in the first place. The girl would argue, and they did not have time for a proper conversation.

This was the best way. When Kallian returned back to the real world, Morrigan would forge a connection similar to the one Wynne had enacted. She would make it so that she could enter Kallian's mind at any moment and compel her to do anything. There was no way to prevent that, the most Wynne could do was make Kallian strike first.

She would kill Morrigan before she had even realized that she had done so. The command Wynne had given her was subconscious and inescapable. Wynne did not know what the witch planned to do with the Archdemon's power, but considering what she had done just to get her hands on it, the safe bet was that it was something abominable. Kallian's mind would fill in the reason for the murder and make some excuse for why it had happened. Life would go on, and only Morrigan would suffer for her own machinations.

Another lie. This wasn't the best way. Nor the right one, nor the moral one. It was just the one Wynne had chosen. She wondered if she had done it just so that she could win, so that Morrigan would lose. Wynne hoped that was not the case, but she still wondered.

Wynne sighed heavily and forced her head clear of these thoughts. Deep inside, her earnest belief was that Morrigan had done something loathsome, and Wynne had taken steps to make sure that it went no farther. This may not be the best way, but it was a clean way that would save lives. Wynne was a dead woman. She was allowed to make one final mistake.

She looked around blankly, unsure of what to do now. The riverside paradise was gone. In its place was an island of red, corrupted mud. Above her, the chaotic, murky twilight of the Fade stretched out in every direction. Distant islands spotted the horizon, but they were worlds away in the uneven landscape of dreams.

_This had better not be death. It's going to get awful tiresome if it is._

Even as that thought crossed her mind, a small sphere of blue light suddenly winked into existence in front of her. Wynne raised a hand reflexively, but then lowered it as she recognized a familiar presence. "Oh, so it's you."

The blue light pulsed once, but gave no other response. Wynne continued as if it had. "Well, was that what you wanted? I'd doubt it, but I'd suppose only you know."

There was another pulse of light. The sphere darted past Wynne to hover by the sheer edge of the floating island. It pulsed twice more, and then the island changed. Where once there had been nothing, an outcropping of land suddenly shot out like a pointing finger. As she watched, it extended and expanded until it formed a wide pathway leading somewhere far away.

Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, tall trees and other plant life shot up on either side of the path until Wynne found herself staring a forest trail.

The sphere of light pulsed one last time before vanishing without a trace. Wynne stared at the place where it had been. "I'm really not in the mood to travel."

There was a long pause, and then a leather backpack popped into existence in front of her. It landed heavily at her feet, disturbing a cloud of fine red dust that billowed up to swirl around the hem of her robes. Wynne stared down at it ruefully. "I take it that's your way of saying I don't have a choice."

She bent down and hoisted the pack on her shoulders. There did not seem much point in checking its contents. If she needed to have it, she probably had it. Collecting her staff from where it was lying on the ground, she squared her shoulders and began to walk down the path laid out for her.

It was strange, but each step she took seemed a little easier than the last. The pains in her joints began to fade, and her old, tired bones didn't feel as old or as tired anymore. Her back grew straight, and she barely minded the weight of the pack around her shoulders. In fact, she did not even really need to lean on her staff anymore. The years seemed to fall away in great clumps, and suddenly, she was walking along briskly and with a spring in her step.

Wynne drew in a breath and felt a smile start at her lips. Perhaps a journey was exactly what she needed.

...

xxXxx

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People who were hoping for a happy ending, you may now rejoice! For everyone who wanted a sad ending...I was right there with you. At least, I was right up until about chapter 4 where I suddenly realized that I was being really hard on Kallian. I decided to give her a break, and around about chapter 9, I knew how this was going to end.

A huge thank you to my beta Gorg who helped my slog through two versions of this monster chapter. It looks much better thanks to her input. Also, I want to thank everyone who is reading and reviewing. I love hearing feedback from you guys, so please, let me know how this chapter was. Love it or hate it, I feel like it had to prompt some kind of reaction :D

So, there shall be an epilogue to tie up lose ends. I have to meet a huge deadline by the first of December, so I cannot say with certainty when it will be out. It's not going to be nearly as long as an ordinary chapter, so I am optimistic.

I broke 400,000 words with this chapter. I just...gah.

Till next time!

p.s. Haha, fuck...this was another cliffhanger right? A more gentle one perhaps, but I'm starting to think I have a problem.


	48. Epilogue

Epilogue- The Arrival of Birds

-Denerim-

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xxXxx_  
_

_...  
_

_"…It was then that Ilineass, who was called Maen'fallah, broke seven sprigs of Ironbark over the Undying Fire. When the sacred wood touched those blue flames it produced such heat as to make the assembled Keepers cry out in fear. Terrible winds snatched at the boughs of the Old Forest, and animals both large and small fled from their home for the first time in an age. Madereras, oldest of the Keepers, stumbled and fell from the circle as the strain of his vigil grew too wearisome. The other would surely have fallen down beside had mighty Erolise not held firm and true. She lifted Madereras back to his feet with the strength of her song, and collectively, the Keepers wove the threads of their spell. All seven were arcanists of great wisdom and power, but even they found this magic illusive. It bucked against their guiding fingers and rested heavily on their tongues as they gave it structure through word and will._

_Seven times they repeated their chant, and seven times they went unanswered. With Madereras weakened and the Undying Fire burning ever more fiercely, the Seven Keepers feared they would be forced to abandon their attempt. Then, with a sound like rushing water, the embers of the fire turned purple and the flames soon followed suit. From the blaze now rose a column of black, oily smoke that did not fade or flee in the gusting wind. It was a thing brought forth from the darkest reaches of the nether, and its great power pulsed through the glade like an ill-favored heartbeat._

"_Who dares? Who dares call me?" The visitation rumbled in a voice made from drumbeats and cloven stone. The Seven Keepers trembled as their courage failed. Only Zathrian, weakest and most clever among them, stood unbowed by their terrible guest. His voice rang out clear against the din._

"_We of the First People do dare. Though now diminished, we remember the ancient pacts. In great need we have called for you."_

_His words provoked amusement from the thing before him. "Called me? You have called Formoire for help! What help would you demand from the One Who Waits in Shadow?"_

_Zathrian responded. "We shall take aid where aid can be found, Old One. A great threat plagues our kin and in desperation we turn—"_

Kallian paused in her reading and looked up from the sheaf of papers she was holding. The early morning sunlight was warm against the skin of her face as she gazed out across the manicured lawns of the royal gardens. Although the granite bench she was sitting on caused her hip to ache something terrible, she endured the mild discomfort because of her surroundings.

Spring had brought life back to Ferelden, and the royal gardeners made the most of the opportunity. A great, four-tiered fountain sat in the dead center of the sprawling space, and a collection of flowerbeds radiated outwards from this locus in an intricate pattern. Leliana had told her that hyacinth arrangements were in fashion this year, and the sweet aroma of the flower was nearly overwhelming. Kallian felt the flowers were all a bit gaudy, and she preferred to linger on the edges of the gardens where a variety of fruit trees and low bushes were planted. It was quiet there and people did not often stop by, especially this early in the morning.

Her bench of choice sat between a pair of lemon trees that seasoned the air with the lively bite of their fruit. A crisp breeze tugged at her hair, but in her long shirt of fine wool and warm leather trousers, Kallian was perfectly cozy. It was as nice a day as she could hope for. After months of bed rest, she took every excuse to be outside. Reading had become the only way for her to past time during her recovery, and she much preferred to do it out here now that the weather was agreeable. Of course, it sometimes proved difficult to concentrate when all she wanted to do was take in the peaceful atmosphere.

But, that was not the reason she had stopped reading just now. She paused because Alistair was going to be here soon. She could not explain why or how she knew this, but the certainty of it was unavoidable in her mind. It was as if she were aware of him in spite of the fact that she could neither see, nor smell, nor hear him. And it was not just Alistair. Ever since her extreme brush with death, Kallian had felt a bit more aware of everything. It had not been very dramatic at first, but in the last few weeks, she had started to notice things she had no business noticing.

By way of instance, she had been sharing supper with Zevran a few days ago and abruptly noticed that there were precisely fifty-seven peas on her dinner plate. There was nothing to precede this revelation and Zevran was quite confused when Kallian had abruptly stopped in midsentence to count her vegetables, but there had been fifty-seven peas on that plate.

As an isolated incident, it was by no means an earth-shattering, but Kallian had experienced a lot of these strange little occurrences lately. She could not think of an explanation for them and was too embarrassed by their oddity to actually mention them to anyone. Besides, the last thing she needed was for Alistair or Leliana to take that as a sign she was not sufficiently recovered.

A few moments later, she saw Alistair and Zevran step around a large hedge that was positioned a good forty strides from where she sat. Kallian smiled and lifted a hand to wave them over. This was going to save her the trouble of seeking them out before she left. Immediately, they turned to head in her direction. Alistair was dressed in a simple outfit consisting of blue breeches with white leggings and a cotton shirt. A blue-trimmed surcoat of pale, treated leather completed the look.

In the first weeks following the Battle of Denerim, he had dressed much more elaborately. Arl Eamon had insisted that a king look the part, but as it quickly became clear that Ferelden had much more important things to worry about, Alistair had abandoned his gold-embroidered coats and adopted a plainer wardrobe. It caused a stir among the nobility, but the rest of Ferelden seemed to approve of his practical outlook. Of course, Alistair was so popular right now that he could have gone naked and people would have admired his minimalist style. He looked better than he had on their journey. Being the king was a stressful job, but he no longer seemed beaten down by responsibility. He had a gained a few pounds of muscle, and a scattering of dark-blond stubble now gave his jaw some extra character.

Kallian returned his smile with a small one of her own as she looked from him to Zevran. "Hey guys, how are things?"

"I've been up since dawn and have already had to resolve two land disputes, a three-generation old blood feud, and deal with an Orlesian diplomat who apparently just wanted to complain about the quality of the food served in the castle." Alistair said this in a rueful tone that was offset by the wink of humor in his eye. "I guess you could say it has been a good day so far."

Zevran rolled his eye at Kallian from behind Alistair's back. He was dressed in a leaf-green tunic emblazoned with the royal seal. A fine coat of chainmail was barely visible beneath his collar. His new role as the king's personal attended meant that he was part advisor and part bodyguard. "And he has been complaining through all of it. How about you? Is the leg feeling any better?"

Kallian grimaced and dropped a hand to protectively rest on her right thigh. She did not like to discuss her injury, but people often insisted on bringing it up. "Still hurts like you wouldn't believe. It gets a bit better every day, though."

"Ah, well be sure to let me know if there is anything I can do to ease the discomfort." Zevran slid down to sit beside Kallian, and after a small hesitation, Alistair sank down on her other side. Zevran leaned in close to Kallian and lightly tapped his eye patch with one finger. "Perhaps a friendly massage would help? We cripples do have to stick together, after all."

Kallian shook her head with an exasperated smile. It was funny, but several months ago, being this close to the two of them would have made her extremely uneasy. Now though, she actually found herself relaxing in their presence. It was good to be around friends, and after everything they had gone through together, they might as well have been family. That didn't mean that she would ever consider indulging Zevran's lurid fantasies, but then she was all but certain that there was no serious offer behind them.

As she was trying to think of a clever response, Alistair bent forward and glanced around as though searching for something. Turning to Kallian, he gave her a knowing look. "I see your cane has mysteriously wandered off again."

Widening her eyes in a pantomime of innocence, Kallian shrugged helplessly. "It has a mind of its own."

"Kallian, you need to be using it." Alistair reprimanded her gently. "The healer said that you really should not be walking anywhere without it."

"This would be the same healer that told me that I was going to lose the leg?" Kallian shifted slightly and managed to avoid wincing as the movement prompted a hot burst of pain in her knee. "And then a month later told me that I would never walk again? That same healer?"

Alistair sighed theatrically. "Yes, that same healer."

"Forgive me if I don't take him at his word."

"He's the best healer the Circle has to offer now that Wynne has passed on, and it is his professional opinion that you shouldn't risk reinjuring yourself." He shot her a significant look. "He also thinks that you should not be travelling."

"Tough titties for him." Kallian set her jaw into a stubborn line. "I heal quickly and Leliana has already made all the arrangements."

Zevran responded before Alistair could. "They don't deny you are healing well. In fact, the word they are using is 'miraculous'."

Alistair turned his eyes up to the sky. "And really, the last thing we need is more people using your name and 'miracle' in the same sentence. That nutty cult you've inspired has been causing a ruckus in the markets again."

"It isn't a cult and I didn't inspire it." Kallian frowned at him. "It's just a couple of whackadoos who are blowing things out of proportion. I never asked to be worshipped or whatever."

"Then you should never have come back from the dead after slaying a cursed dragon. That type of thing brings out the piety in people."

"Yeah, no kidding. Between that and all this 'Hero of Ferelden' business, I'm looking forward to getting away for a while."

That prompted a soft exclamation from Zevran. "The two of you are still planning on leaving this afternoon?"

"Yep. We want to slip away without any fuss." The thought made Kallian smile. She could not remember being this excited about anything. When Leliana had suggested it a few weeks back, it had sounded like the single greatest idea in the world. "She's taken care of everything. I just packed a bag and she's doing all the rest."

Alistair sighed again. "I'll be sorry to see you go. It feels like we are splitting up all of sudden."

His words held a note of sadness that Kallian understood all too well. Wynne's death had been hard on all of them, and their small group of companions had gotten much smaller recently. Oghren had trundled off nearly a month ago to settle some old business in Orzammar, and just last week, Sten had set sail to return to his own people. Kallian felt bad for leaving Alistair alone to govern a country, but at least he had Arl Eamon and Zevran around to give him some help.

She gave his shoulder a friendly shove in the hopes of lightening the mood. "It's not like it is going to be forever. Maybe a year at most."

"A year?" Zevran repeated her words like he did not quite understand the meaning. "Where are you going?"

"Dunno."

"You are leaving the country, and you don't know where you are going?"

"Nah, we haven't decided." That may have been Kallian's favorite part of this trip. She liked not having a plan to follow or any restrictions to abide by. It was liberating more than anything else. "We are just going to pick a place at random."

"That might be for the best, actually." Alistair's expression went abruptly serious. "You should choose a place and not mention where you are going to anyone."

Kallian blinked at him. "Why do you say that?"

He started to speak, but then hesitated. "Hey, Zevran?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you give us a minute? It's Grey Warden secret time."

The assassin nodded without looking in the least bit offended. Rising smoothly to his feet, he shot Kallian a charming smile. "Will I have a chance to see you again before you depart?"

She shook her head. "I'm meeting Leliana in two hours and then we are off."

"In that case, let me wish you the best on your travels." He dropped to a knee and took Kallian's hand in both of his own. His voice dropped into a low whisper as he continued. "You gave me a new life. A better one. Don't act modest or play it off. Just know that whenever you have need of anything, you have but to ask it of me."

Kallian clapped him on the shoulder warmly. "Same goes for you. And take care of Alistair, he tries hard, but he's only a human."

"Hey!"

Zevran ignored Alistair's outburst. "One elf can hardly hold a county together. Take care, _bella_, and make sure you both come back safely."

"I will. See you soon, Zevran."

With an exaggerated bow in Alistair's direction, Zevran turned on his heel and strolled off along one of the garden paths. Kallian smiled after him before turning her attention to Alistair. "Should I be afraid?"

"What do you mean?"

"Grey Warden secret time has historically been a bad time."

"Well, it's not so much bad as it is important." Alistair's eyes shifted nervously over toward a nearby bush that had blossomed with tiny yellow flowers. "Look, I didn't want to burden you with all this while you were recovering, but I've got about twenty letters sitting on my desk that concern you."

"Me?"

"Oh yes. The fact that you survived killing the Archdemon has not gone unnoticed. Almost no one outside of the Grey Wardens realizes the full implication of what that means, but there are about fifty people in Thedas who do."

Kallian nodded, remembering how it had come as a surprise to both her and Alistair in spite of them being Wardens. "And why is that a problem?"

"Those people are either mages of the Circle, high-ranking members of the Chantry, or else belonging to some private organization with a great deal of power." Alistair said this grimly. "And now, they are all very interested in learning how you managed to do something that was assumed impossible."

Kallian straightened up in her seat as she realized where he was going with this. She had found that it was never a good thing when powerful people took an interest in her. "What do they want?"

"Every Circle Tower in Thedas wants permission to examine you, and the Templars have asked for the opportunity to 'evaluate' your condition. I am sure you can guess what that means." Alistair gave a slight shake of his head as he glowered at his bush. "Worst of all, the Chantry is interested in you. Yesterday, I was handed a letter from the Divine asking that you appear in Orlais."

"The Divine?" Kallian sputtered the word out of shock. To receive a letter from the Divine was a bit like being summoned by the Maker himself. She was the effective head of the Chantry and wielded more power than any monarch could hope to. "Why the hell does she care?"

"Probably because several Ferelden Chantries have started discussing you in the same terms as Andraste. The Chantry gets a bit nervous when people start creating saviors all on their lonesome."

Kallian shivered. "So what? Are they going to kill me out of spite?"

"I doubt that. You've got Grey Warden neutrality and an entire country that thinks of you as a hero. Besides, my guess is they want to use you. I mean, just think of about how the Chantry might enjoy having a living martyr on their hands. It would be like having a walking seal of approval from the Maker that they could parade about whenever they wanted to garner support."

"Oh." The thought had not even occurred to her. "Damn, that is not good."

He nodded gravely. "Which is why you need to be very careful once you leave Ferelden. I've been able to stall by saying you are too ill to appear anywhere, but it won't be long before the letters start to get unfriendly. If I were you, I would make it a practice to use different names and avoid staying in any one place for too long. A lot of dangerous people are interested in meeting with you and I suspect they don't care about your feelings on the subject."

Kallian pinched the bridge of her nose, silently wondering when the world was going to stop fucking with her. "What about the Wardens? I'd imagine they want to see me as well."

"They're being a bit more subtle about it." He drew a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his coat and passed it over. Kallian took it, but did nothing other than let it rest on her lap. "They've made you Warden Commander of Ferelden."

A long silence stretched between them. Slowly, Kallian unfolded the paper and stared at the griffin seal emblazoned on the top right corner. "You're kidding."

"They pointed out that because I am the leader of a sovereign country, I am ineligible for the position." He chuckled, somewhat harshly. "Actually, what they said was that I might not be qualified to remain a Warden at all. You're the only other Warden in Ferelden, so they have appointed you. Of course, this means you would have to travel to the Order headquarters in Orlais to accept the position."

"And probably get interrogated to no end." The idea held little appeal. Kallian glanced at the official document and decided to wait to read it until later. She was still an embarrassingly slow reader, and she did not want to stall this conversation. Instead, she pointed out the obvious. "The only problem I see is that I'm no longer a Warden. "

"Don't say that."

"It's true though." She folded the letter and looked up at him. "The healer said I don't have a drop of tainted blood left in me. That's what made me a Warden, and now it's gone."

Alistair turned to her with a serious expression. "You're always going to be a Warden, blood notwithstanding. The way I see it, you are the best Warden alive if we are going by sheer number of Archdemons slain."

Kallian gave him a toothy grin. "Do you think the Order will buy that?"

"No, sadly." His voice became grim once more. "And I would prefer you don't let them find out. If the Wardens say that you are out of the club, you lose neutrality."

"And then I'm fair game. What am I supposed to do about this?"

"Leave with Leliana. Spend a year having fun and getting some rest. Come back when you are done, and hopefully this will have largely blown over. If not, we'll figure it out."

It sounded like a good plan to Kallian, but she had a nasty feeling that this was going to cause more trouble for him. "I'm sorry. Do you think they will really revoke your status as a Warden?"

He grinned. "If they do, I'll have to settle for being a king."

"C'mon, Alistair. It's alright if you aren't happy with how this turned out."

"I'm not unhappy, I swear." He held up a hand to stop her. "Sure, I wasn't thrilled about it at first, but these past few months have worked out well. I honestly think I can do some good here. At least, that's assuming I don't royally mess something up."

"I wouldn't worry about it." She settled back against the bench. "You've got the whole hero thing going for you. Plus, no matter what you do, you're still a better ruler than I could ever be."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Because that's saying a lot."

Kallian barked out a surprised laugh. "Well, I guess you can go fuck yourself."

"Hey, no offense intended, but your family is not really well-suited for politics. Did you hear what your cousin said to the Bann of West Hills?"

Kallian smirked appreciatively. As one of his first official acts as king, Alistair had given the elves a seat on the City Council. The Alienage had elected Shianni as their representative, and by all accounts, she was doing a fine job of shaking up the established order. "I heard it rhymed with 'runt'."

"Yeah, which is exactly what I needed. I was praying that the nobles would get another reason to complain about the elves."

"You're just mad that you aren't allowed to say it."

"There's truth to that." He smiled along with her. "What about your family? Are you going to say good-bye to them before you go?"

"Already did. Last night in fact."

"Are they okay with it?"

"Dad told me not to drink the water. I guess that is his way of approving."

Alistair chuckled before falling silent. The two of the sat quietly like that for a while; the only sound was the faint commotion of the distant fountain. There was one last thing that Kallian wanted to ask Alistair before leaving, but she knew it would be an awkward subject. Turning her head so that she was facing him, she spoke up. "Any word of Morrigan?"

Beside her, Alistair went tense. A shadow fell over his face with the swiftness of a changing breeze. "None at all."

It was a sore subject for them both. Morrigan had disappeared not two days after the Archdemon had fallen. Kallian had not even been conscious. The witch had left without saying a word to anyone about where she was going or why. The only thing she left behind was a note on Alistair's bedside that had simply read: "You won't find me."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." Kallian scuffed at the ground with the toe of her boot. "I guess I was just hoping that someone might have seen her or something…"

She petered off awkwardly, but Alistair mercifully picked up the conversation. "I have some of the border garrisons keeping an eye out for a woman of her description, but I'm not expecting much. I just hope that she doesn't run afoul of Templars or Darkspawn stragglers."

"I'd be more worried about them in that instance."

"True." His lips twisted into a pained attempt at a smile. "I just wish…" There was a pause before he began again. "I just wish she could have said something. I know she's allowed to go where she wants, but I think we deserved a good-bye."

Kallian covered his hand with one of her own. "She'll be back, Alistair."

"You sound sure of that."

"I am sure."

"Why? It's not as though she's given us much reason to think she would."

"Because," Kallian drew out the word with a long intake of breath. "Do you really think there is a chance in hell that we've seen the last of Morrigan?"

Alistair stared over at her for a long moment. Then, he shook his head. "No, I guess not."

"Trust me, she'll be back to complicate things at some point. Probably right around the time Arl Eamon starts trying to get you married."

"Starts? He's already well on his way. I can't tell you how many boring dinners I've shared with the noble daughters of Ferelden." He huffed out a laugh and stood up from the bench. Lifting his arms, he stretched out his shoulders before dropping them heavily to his sides. "But enough about my problems. What I wanted to say was have a good time and make sure the two of you stay safe."

"I'm sure Leliana knows how to keep us from being noticed, but I'll keep the advice in mind." Kallian started to rise on her own, but then thought better of it. She extended an arm up toward Alistair. "Would you mind giving me a hand?"

He took it and easily pulled Kallian to her feet. Pain flared up along her leg and she barely managed to avoid flinching. Instead, she shifted her weight onto her left leg and fixed Alistair with a wide smile. "So, I guess this is it, huh?"

"Guess so." His arms twitched as though he were about to lift them for a hug and then had thought better of it. "I'd better get a whole bunch of souvenirs when you get back."

Kallian took a step closer and threw her arms around Alistair's chest. And even though a part of her instinctively tensed when his arms came up to rest around her shoulders, she did not pull away. Kallian did not have many close friends in the world and she did not want to part with a lukewarm farewell. Stepping back after a long moment, she turned back to the bench and leaned down to pluck up the papers she had been reading earlier and offered them to Alistair.

"Here. This is most of what Wynne translated for me. Would you mind keeping it safe until I get back?"

He took them. "Sure, but why not take them?"

"I already read it all, and they would just get messy on the trip."

"Anything useful in them?"

"There are a few interesting parts." Kallian tapped the papers with her finger. "And I really would like to speak with Zathrian again. I think there's a long conversation that needs to happen between us."

Alistair carefully folded the pages and placed them in his coat. He held out his hand. "Let's hope you get the chance soon enough. Good-bye, Kallian. Safe travels."

"Hey," She shook his hand firmly and smirked. "We did alright, didn't we?"

"In spite of the odds and our own best efforts."

They shared a smile, and then Alistair released her hand. Kallian ducked her head in a final farewell before turning to walk back to the castle. Even though she tried to disguise it, there was no way for her to avoid falling into the slow, limping gait that had become her norm. Her right leg had locked up tight while she had been sitting down, and a fresh flash of pain lanced through her knee every time she put weight on it. This predictable discomfort no longer made Kallian wince or curse. Like everything else, pain grew tolerable with long familiarity.

That said, she did have to grit her teeth when she reached the short flight of stairs leading up to the castle's rear entrance. There were only seven steps, but each one presented a real difficulty for her. She managed by turning sideways and taking every movement with care. It was hard to feel bitter about her circumstances when she knew that she was incredibly lucky to be climbing steps at all. Still, in some of her darker moments, she would confess to feeling very helpless at times. She had spent years looking after herself by being just a bit luckier and more savage than most, and now she couldn't climb a staircase without worry. Hell, she had not yet turned twenty and people were already asking her to use a cane.

Once past the stairs it was smooth sailing. Kallian stopped by her rooms just long enough to pick up a few things she would need for her trip. It was a short list: a warm cloak of grey wool, her coin purse, two knives, and her set of lockpicks. It wasn't as though she had much use for knives or picks as of late, but she felt underdressed without them. Leliana had already arranged to do something with her luggage, so Kallian took a moment to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything before leaving the room behind.

And then, she was off.

…

xxXxx

…

It had come as no surprise to anyone that the markets were the first thing to be rebuilt in the wake of the Blight. This was the heart of Denerim, and too many citizens relied on it to get by. Today, the usual merchants and traders were joined by small crews of workmen who were selling their labor alongside the more traditional goods. The reconstruction efforts had changed Ferelden in subtle ways, the demand for skilled workmen being one of the more apparent. This meant that the ordinarily busy plaza was now veritable circus filled with shouted offers and a churning herd of humans.

Kallian halted just outside the Chantry gates and gazed at the chaos sourly. She suddenly wished that she and Leliana had possessed the foresight to specify a more exact meeting place than "in the markets". It was going to be murder trying to find Leliana in this mess. She decided that her best bet was to circle around the edges of the plaza and avoid the crowd. That would at least cut down on the chance of her getting accidentally knocked over.

Just as she was about to start moving, the wonderful aroma of cooking meat and rich spices drifted over from a nearby stall. It made her mouth water and she could not help but inhale deeply in pleasure. This triggered one of her funny little moments.

It was though someone had thrown a switch and turned on the world. A thousand different odors assailed her in a blur of sensation. It went far beyond her sense of smell. She could taste them on her palate, feel them against her skin, and knew in which direction their source might be found.

She could smell many humans, their individual scents as distinct as differing colors. The plant fibers of their clothing were rank with the salty tang of their sweat, and beneath that powerful odor were countless other. She could smell the leather of their shoes, the faint traces of lye and tallow on their skin, and even their last meals in the wake of their breath. These human smells were joined with the earthy presence of the five dwarves spread around the plaza. Their bodies flush with various metals and fermented hops. The thirteen elves in the district were laden with reek of the Alienage. It clung to them as a mask of dirt and grime that conjured memories of narrow alleyways and ramshackle houses.

A more appetizing aroma rose from the wares on sale. Along with the spiced meat Kallian had originally noticed, she could pick out the fresh breads and the fruits that weren't quite ripe. A stall filled with Rivanni silks gifted her with hints of sand and ocean air, and from an Antivan merchant she drew in the creamy fragrance of oiled leather. A myriad of perfumes on sale at the center of the market released a dizzying combination of alcohol and floral accents that was almost overpowering.

All of this information swept into Kallian's awareness at once. She smelled the markets and everything that went into that scent. It was like looking at a tapestry and being painfully aware of every single thread that composed it.

It lasted an instant and then it was over. The thousand smells simply vanished to leave her with the sooty, rank air of Denerim. She exhaled slowly, her muscles tense from the suddenness of the experience.

Her head turned to look over to the northwest corner of the markets. It was from there that she had noticed one human scent in particular. Jasmine perfume and fresh soap had mingled with a smell that Kallian would have recognized anywhere. It made her think of long nights in bed and the warm arms of someone she loved.

Shaken, Kallian stood in dumbfounded silence as she tried to account for what had just happened. There was not going to be an easy way to dismiss this as mere coincidence or simple oddity. She had been perfectly aware of every single thing in the markets. That degree of hyperawareness had been alien and frightening, but Kallian found herself breathing quickly for an entirely different reason.

She was invigorated. Her body felt like a loosed bowstring as adrenaline trembled though her veins and muscles. In an instant, she had experienced more raw sensation that she knew what to do with. It was as though she had spent her entire life living in a closet, and then suddenly found herself in the middle of a festival. Terrifying on one level, and incomparably exciting on another.

Kallian shook herself to loosen her muscles and began to mechanically walk northeast. She decided not to mention this to Leliana. At best, Leliana might be insulted that Kallian had smelled her from across the market, and at worst, she might decide it was a cause for concern. No, until Kallian was sure that this was actually happening, she would keep it to herself. It wasn't really that extreme when it came down to it. Compared to murderous rampages, this type of crazy was almost pleasant. Besides, it was probably just what happened when you spent a few hours effectively dead. That had to leave a mark of some kind, and this was better than nightmarish dreams or something such.

She forcibly drove the thoughts from her mind and focused on maneuvered her way through the crowd. After stepping around a particularly rotund merchant and found herself looking directly at Leliana. Drawing up short, she took a moment to appreciate the view.

Leliana was dressed in dark blue riding pants and a matching jacket that ended just below her ribs. She wore the jacket unbuttoned over a blouse of light-brown wool with high leather boots completing the outfit. It was a far cry from the dresses that the other women in the marketplace were wearing, but Leliana made it seem like the superior option. The tight clothing worked wonders with her long limbs and slender figure, and where some might appear mannish in the functional clothing, she simply looked athletic and fully capable.

She was leaning with her shoulders against a wooden fence that ran along the northern edge of the markets. Her arms were loosely folded beneath her breasts, and one leg was crossed over the other. Were it anyone else, Kallian might have said she was slouching, but Leliana had probably never slouched in her entire life. Currently, she was staring out over the crowded market not as if she were looking for someone, but rather as if she just enjoyed looking.

There was a time when Kallian would have tried to sneak up on her as a game, but sneaking was no longer something she was much good at. Instead, she squared her shoulders and tried to make her limp less pronounced as she started toward the other woman. It helped a little, but not much.

Leliana did not look away from the crowd as Kallian came up to stand beside her. There was no way she could have missed Kallian's approach, yet she gave every appearance of being unaware. Kallian watched her expectantly for a moment, and when nothing was forthcoming, she made a show of shrugging. If Leliana wanted to play this game, she could play it. Shuffling over to the fence, she leaned against it in perfect mimicry of Leliana's posture. Lifting her chin up, she stared straight-ahead as if that was what she had come to do.

They kept this up for almost a minute before Kallian chanced a look over in Leliana's direction. The bard had not moved an inch, but a thin smile now tugged at her lips. Chuckling, Kallian decided to concede. "That outfit makes me want to do all manner of unseemly things to you."

Leliana rolled her head around to look at Kallian. Her smile grew much wider. "And here I was worried it would inspire seemly thoughts."

"Nope," Kallian cast a pointed look down at Leliana's spectacularly tight pants. "There's nothin' seemly about it."

"Flatterer." The bard giggled softly before giving Kallian a quick look over. "Now, you look both adorable and ready for an adventure. Of course, you are missing something."

Kallian arched a brow. "Oh?"

"Indeed. I think I have just the thing." Leliana turned and plucked a long, thin object that Kallian hadn't noticed leaning against the fence. Handing it over, Leliana smiled broadly. "Not to be forgetting this, yes?"

"Ah." Kallian swallowed her distaste as she accepted her cane. It was crafted from some sort of dark wood and topped with a crown of ivory that had been elaborately carved to resemble a griffin. Two tiny rubies glittered in the griffin's eye sockets, and Kallian was of the opinion that the damn thing looked altogether too smug. "….Good, I thought I had lost it."

Leliana gave her a level stare. "One of the servants gave it to me yesterday. He said that he found it on top of our bed canopy while he was dusting. How did it get up there, I wonder?"

Kallian kept her eyes wide and innocent. "One of life's higher mysteries?"

Her wit did not seem to impress Leliana overly much. Indeed, Leliana chose to ignore it entirely in favor of pointing at the cane with one finger. "Arl Eamon had that made special for you, the healer says that you must use it to prevent further damage, and walking without it is unquestionably harder. So, I must ask: why on Earth do you insist on not using it?"

Kallian pursed her lips and said nothing. How was she supposed to respond to that? She could try to convince Leliana that she didn't need it, but that had never worked in their previous visits to this conversation. She could lie and say that using it was somehow uncomfortable, but lying to Leliana was no longer an option she entertained. Kallian could tell her the truth and say that it made her feel weak and like a shadow of herself, but that type of honesty still did not come easily to her.

In lieu of a proper response, she eventually grumbled out a reluctant agreement. "I'll use the cane."

"Oh, come now, Kallian. I don't want to feel like I'm bullying you into doing something." Leliana pushed off the fence and moved to stand in front of her. Her expression was kind as she stared down at Kallian with twinkling blue eyes. "Do you really hate it so much?"

"I thought hiding it on top of the canopy was a pretty strong indication of my feelings toward it."

"Understand that I just don't want to see you hurt anymore. Neither one of us deserves that." Leliana lifted a hand to brush some of Kallian's hair away from her face. As she did, the pads of her fingers danced along the shell of Kallian's earlobe to send tingling contractions down the length of her spine. Kallian leaned into the touch, her eyes drifting closed as Leliana's voice became softer and more intimate. "I nearly lost you a few months ago. You'll have to forgive me if I worry sometimes."

Kallian nodded stupidly. Her thoughts were drifting away from the issue of the cane and toward Leliana's close proximity. "Uh, right. I can understand that."

"Then I hope you know that I only want what is best for you." Leliana leaned in closer until their eyes were locked together. "Wouldn't you do the same in my position?"

"Err…Well, I suppose I would—"

She had to stop speaking because she was suddenly being kissed. It was a damn good kiss, too; one that had her pressing her body against Leliana's and forgetting that they were in a very public place. The pain in her leg forgotten, she almost wanted to purr from sheer happiness. This was why she was so lucky to be alive. She could put up with anything if it meant more moments like this.

It was over all too quickly, and by then Kallian could barely remember what they had been discussing. She hugged Leliana tightly, burying her face against the bard's neck and inhaling as deeply as she could. Smirking, she murmured quietly. "You don't fight fair anymore."

"I never fought fair." Leliana corrected easily as her hand ran along Kallian's lower back in small circles. "You have simply become a softie and now it works on you."

"Softie? Need I remind you that I have killed a whole bunch of scary shit?"

There was a gentle nip of teeth at her ear, and Kallian's mind went momentarily blank. She sagged against Leliana like some weak-kneed damsel in distress. Mischievous laughter greeted her when she recovered her presence of mind. "Sofffffttieee."

Kallian let go of Leliana and stepped back to give her a mock scowl. "Dirty trick."

"I'm well aware."

"I get your point, though. I'll use the cane." Kallian grimaced before gesturing at the griffin-headed monstrosity in her hand. "But, does it have to be this cane? This thing is scary ugly."

Leliana glanced down at it ruefully. "It does make you look rather like a mad wizard."

"Right? I feel like I should be ordering minions to do something whenever I hold it." Kallian gave it a shake to emphasize her point. "I'd be fine with a regular stick, or maybe one of those canes that have a sword in it. I could think of a thousand ways to use a cane like that."

"Truly? I feel like the only use would be stabbing people." Leliana smiled and motioned for Kallian to walk with her. Together, they started moving in the direction of the docks. Kallian hated to admit it, but the going was a lot easier when she could distribute some of her weight through the cane. She was able to straighten up her posture and her limp became more of stumble. Leliana kept talking as Kallian fell in alongside her. "However, in the interest of finding compromise, I promise that we will find you the most needlessly dangerous cane imaginable once we get to Antiva."

Kallian grinned. "We're going to Antiva first?"

"Not quite. The ship I secured passage on will drop us off on the Cardomen Isles."

The name held no significance to Kallian. "Where's that?"

"Technically, they are part of Orlais, but they have been self-governed for decades. I chose it because it is a big port and we will have no trouble finding a ship to take us anywhere. Likewise, people will not be likely to remember two travelers or where they might have left for."

Kallian looked over at her. "I take it Alistair gave you the 'use different names' talk?"

"He did indeed. I rather like the idea. It adds an element of danger to this trip, no?"

That drew a laugh from Kallian. "Yeah, 'cause we have a real shortage of that in our lives."

"You were the one who told me I could never lead the peaceful life of a Chantry Sister. Forgive me if I've decided to agree."

"Fair enough. Any idea where we might go from there?"

They left the markets and turned onto a street leading eastward to the docks. As they walked, Leliana took over the majority of the conversation as she began to sketch out a brief plan for their trip. Kallian nodded along dutifully, but she truly did not care where they were going. It was enough to know that she was going to be with Leliana. Everything else was just so many details.

Her eyes traced over Leliana's profile as they went. She silently marveled at the very fact that she was here. Three months ago, when she had first awoken after killing the Archdemon, this moment would have seemed like an impossibility.

She had returned to the world completely blind and almost incapable of movement. Her muscles were so severely damaged during the fight with the Archdemon that she could not lift her arms off the bedspread for nearly a week. To say that she had been in pain was akin to saying that a drowning man was damp. She had spent those days drifting between feverish dreams and short stretches of unmerciful consciousness. That had been the worst of it. Even recalling those moments of sightless agony still prompted her to feel a cold sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. If Leliana and Alistair hadn't been there to help her though it, Kallian doubted she would have survived her recovery.

But, it had gotten better. One morning she had woken to find that she could see. Granted, it had only been in black and white, but within three days, color had returned to her. From there, it had been a long and typically painful road to recovery. The Circle healer had warned her that some of her injuries would never fully mend, and when she had first seen the state of her right leg, she had believed him. However, her improvement had been remarkably consistent. By small measures, her scars grew fainter and the pain lessened. By this point, her leg no longer looked like a twisted mess of scar tissue. It might have been her imagination, but it also seemed to function better with each passing day.

"Oh! Kallian, look over there!"

Blinking, Kallian raised her head to see what had caught Leliana's eye. While she had been lost in thought, they had evidently arrived at the large stone seawall that overlooked the merchant docks. Built more to defend against naval assault than inclement weather, the seawall rose twenty yards above the docks as a grim expanse of brine-bleached stone. The docks themselves were made from a thick, dark wood that had developed a permanent crust of barnacles. They teemed with the colorful sort of people who frequented major ports. Sailors were in abundance, either loading or unloading various cargo at the behest of their superiors, grubby wharf urchins milled about as they panhandled or otherwise harassed passers-by, and even several prostitutes were present in case someone felt the need to contract a venereal disease. It was a fascinating mix of sight and sound, but she could see nothing worthy of mention. "What is it?"

"There!" Leliana pointed to draw Kallian's attention to a block of stone that had been erected midway along the length of the seawall. A perfectly-sculpted square that measured at least five yards in each dimension, the block was made from a white stone that shown brilliantly in the clear sunlight. Leliana caught Kallian by the elbow and started marching her over toward it. "It's the foundation for your statue!"

"Say that louder, why don't you?" Kallian hissed as she gamely resisted the urge to dig in her heels. It wouldn't stop Leliana, and she really didn't relish the prospect of being dragged about in public. "And it is just a big rock! There's nothing to see!"

Leliana ignored her protests as she pulled Kallian over to stand in front of the large stone. Wrapping an arm around Kallian's shoulders in a tight embrace, she released a happy sigh. "It is going to be just wonderful when it is finished. You've seen the sketches of the final product, haven't you?"

Kallian rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I've seen them. I'm amazed the city council commissioned something that stupid."

"It isn't stupid!"

"Leliana, it's a statue of me riding a horse and carrying a spear. That's stupid and you know it."

Leliana pouted. "I believe that when you are on a horse, you would call that a 'lance' and not a 'spear'."

"Because that's what matters here."

"You are no fun. It's artistic license." Now, it was Leliana's turn to roll her eyes. "How would you have them depict you? Waving a knife and spitting on the cobblestones?"

Kallian glared at the stone foundation and felt a familiar flush of guilt rise up in her cheeks. "I'd prefer it if they didn't depict me at all."

"But they can't do that. You are the Hero of Ferelden and you very nearly died to save the entire country. It would reflect badly upon the city if they did not try to honor that in some way." Leliana shook Kallian's shoulders playfully. "So, you may as well enjoy it. There are some people who would literally kill to have a statue made of them."

"I'm not one of them." Kallian tugged free of Leliana's hold. Her mood had soured in the face of this conversation, and she was now unaccountably angry. "I don't want it, and I sure as hell don't deserve it."

Leliana winced. "Don't say that. Of course, you deserve it. You killed the—"

"I didn't do anything." Kallian cut her off with a curt chop of her hand. "All I did was fight in the battle like everyone else. It was my freakish demon that killed a dragon, and it was Wynne who made the sacrifice. If anything, we should be building a statue of her."

A small silence fell between them as Leliana stared down at her in surprise. Kallian wished she had not made her words sound quite so bitter. Now, she had all but guaranteed that they were going to have a serious talk.

Sure enough, Leliana stepped close and lowered her voice so that they conversation would not carry to the people moving around them. "You are being unfair to yourself."

"Am I?" Kallian motioned toward the stone block. "Because I don't think it is fair that they are calling me a hero for doing something that I didn't do."

"You were ready to give your own life to save others. That alone deserves a statue, and I'm tired of hearing you punish yourself for things you couldn't control."

"But this feels wrong. It's like I'm lying to everyone and they are all buying it." Kallian lifted her eyes to meet Leliana's. "Did you hear that some people are worshipping me? That is serious, Leliana. It isn't right."

"You have to understand that people need heroes, Kallian. A hero is something they can idealize and aspire to be. They didn't see a demon kill the Archdemon, they saw you do it and then come back from the dead. There's a lot of power in something like that. It was bound to draw attention." Leliana's tone grew warm with amusement. "And remember, every hero in history has benefitted from embellishment to some degree. A few worshippers and a statue of you riding a horse is hardly worthy of mention."

Kallian begrudgingly smiled. "You think so?"

"Oh yes, quite so." Leliana stepped back with a smile. "Compared to what I have written about you in my story, it's downright accurate."

That got Kallian's attention. "Hold up, _you're_ writing a story about me?"

"It's really more of a balladic epic. I have several songs penned down, but some of the narrative is giving me trouble. My guess is that your frightfully boring life is to blame." Leliana placed her hand on the small of Kallian's back and gently steered her away from the statue's foundation. It was a casual gesture, but Kallian suspected that it was very intentional. "If anything, you really could use some more embellishment. You weren't born during a thunderstorm by any chance, were you?"

Kallian chuckled. "Afraid not."

"Hmm…well, I suppose I'll have to make you taller. More polite too. I'm running out of words that rhyme with 'diminutive' and 'uncouth'."

The teasing made Kallian feel better. It was strange to think that being insulted made her love Leliana even more, but there it was. "Uh-huh, and who said you could write this? I don't remember giving you permission."

"I thought that permission was implied." Leliana adopted a wounded expression. "Considering how close we are, I always thought of myself as your official biographer."

"Odd, I always thought you were just my consort."

"Consort?" Leliana laughed aloud as they reached the staircase leading down to the docks. "Don't think I won't push you into the ocean just because you have a cane."

"You won't." Kallian descended the staircase carefully, keeping to the edge to avoid being jostled by the crowd. "Because you love me."

"Correct on both accounts, although it would arguably be hilarious." Leliana helped her down the last step and then led her out onto the docks. They walked some twenty yards along the wooden planks before Leliana motioned her down one of the outcropping piers. A single vessel waited for them at the end of the dock. Three-masted and resting low in the water, it looked more like a military vessel than any merchant ship Kallian had ever seen.

She gazed at it uncertainly. "This is it?"

"Yes, that's the one." Leliana stood on her tip-toes to scan the crowd of sailors that were massed near the boarding plank of the ship. After a moment, she let out a satisfied exclamation. "And there is our future captain."

Kallian craned her head to look in the general direction that Leliana was facing. At first, she was unsure of what she was looking for, but then, she was all to certain. Standing amidst the sailors was a tall woman with dark skin and clothing that could kindly be called provocative. Even from a distance, Kallian recognized her immediately.

Captain Isabela.

Slowly, Kallian turned her gaze on Leliana. "You're kidding."

"Her rates are very competitive."

"She's a pirate."

"Former pirate. I've been assured that she is very much a smuggler now." Leliana carefully studied the nails on one hand. "Did I mention that competitive price is for a respectably-sized cabin?"

Kallian sighed. "You realize, of course, that she will spend the entire trip trying to lure us into some sort of rum-fueled pirate orgy?"

Leliana cocked a brow. "And?"

"And, that is…" Kallian paused and carefully considered what she had just said. "…not as convincing as I'd thought. Still, you see where I'm coming from, right?"

"I think we will be able to contain ourselves." Leliana bared her teeth in a smile that was all suggestion and promise. "But, I would not worry in any case. I don't plan to let you out of the aforementioned cabin long enough to be ensnared by any wicked pirates."

Kallian could not help but like the sound of that. "Then I guess I don't have an argument."

"I am so very glad you agree." Leliana started down the boardwalk toward where Isabela was waiting. "Now, let's go see if our luggage is safe and sound."

"No worries, I'm sure the smuggler-pirates took great care of it."

"I am going to pointedly ignore your sarcasm." Leliana called back over her shoulder. "Hurry up or I will tell them to leave without you."

Kallian smiled, but did not follow. She spent a worthwhile moment just staring after Leliana and marveling at her own luck. There was probably a lot that should be said about being in love with the most wonderful person on the planet, but Kallian was never much good with words. She would have to settle for taking action, preferably hot, intimate action that left everyone sweaty and out of breath. That was as good a way as any to express one's innermost feelings.

A short breath of laughter escaped her as she finally started walking after Leliana. She felt a wondrous, carefree sense of anticipation. At no point did she look back at Denerim and marvel at how far she had come, or else dwell on what getting here had cost her. She did not feel anger at Morrigan's absence, or guilt at Wynne's. She did not worry about the Chantry and its intentions toward her, or about the strange occurrences that she could not explain. Nor did she give thought to her race, or her past, or the innumerable small worries that could have plagued her mind if she had let them. Kallian did not even notice that she took five steps without limping or needing to use her cane. There was no jolt of pain to remind her, no awkward stumble to make her notice. She took five perfect strides until force of habit made her body remember itself and resume her limping gait.

All of that had no place in her mind. Not right now. The troubles and tribulations of the world would just have to wait awhile if they wanted her attention.

Because, for perhaps the first time in her life, Kallian was looking to the future and liking what she saw there.

...

xxXxx

* * *

And it is done.

I want to thank my beta Gorg for her tremendous time commitment and for being so very helpful. Additionally, I would like to thank everyone who has been reading. You guys made this a really fun experience for me, and I appreciate that very much.

I don't have much else to say about this other than you may have noticed the dangling sequel bait spread liberally through this epilogue. I will probably wait until the third Dragonage comes out before writing the sequel, but I do have one planned. In the mean time, if any of you are Mass Effect fans, look for my new story to be popping up in the next several weeks. Title is not determined at this point, but I'm very excited about it.

Oh! and leave a review if it pleases you. I know there are a few of you out there who have been waiting for the perfect moment to leave one, and this is almost certainly it. I love hearing any kind of response, so don't hesitate!

-MountainGoats


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